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It’s a fine line between saying what’s on your mind and just saying everything that comes to mind. Besides my general dislike for social pretense (see Friday’s article if you need a reference point) the reason I have always said what I’m thinking is because I am an out loud processor. When I take in information, stimuli or knowledge or circumstance, it doesn’t immediately get filed away. Most of the time, it ends up in the trash folder, which routinely gets emptied whenever I log off. In order to retain anything, I need to perform one of two functions. Either I repeat it back to myself, or I write it down.

But there was a time when I was younger that “repeat it back to myself” meant hearing myself say it out loud. Even into my early twenties, I rarely kept anything to myself. So a half-formed thought about my lunch, full of sound and fury and signifying nothing, would be spoken in a staff meeting, causing askance glances my way since we were talking mobility issues for chair users.

Blah blah blah “accessible ramp” blah “peanut butter and jelly sandwich.” It was like the worst free-association game you’ve ever played. Needless to say, I learned to internalize the process a bit. I say a bit because there is still the conscious act of repeating something to myself (assuming I intend to remember it later.) You just don’t hear it spoken anymore.

So when I was younger, I routinely (and much to the surprise of the random person sitting next to me on the BART train) just blurted out whatever I was thinking lacking anything resembling context or conversation. (By the way, I have to mention that I also used to burst out in spontaneous song and more than once, my mother had to turn to me and say “Oh, Drew. No.” Some habits we can’t be shamed out of.) But as I got older, I also discovered I had a talent, some might call it that, for saying what’s on my mind. Being honest is a tricky thing. People don’t appreciate the truth being tossed in their face so much like a bucket of ice water. The truth forces them to recognize self-delusion, to reconcile perception with reality (theirs or yours). And sometimes, damnit, you might think you’re being truthful, but you might also be wrong.

There are situations in which, much like the pleases and thank yous of the world, that the truth serves you very little. Work is a good example. Dating is another. I have a notoriously broken first date censor that has spoiled many an evening. No topic is off limits, except ex-boyfriends - even I recognize those boundaries - but typically, as my brain flows, so flowth my mouth.

There was a time not that many years ago, when I tried to stem the flow of truthfulness the poured from me. Telling people what I honestly thought was not endearing me to anyone (even when I knew I was right) and I really, really just wanted to everyone to like me. Because let’s be honest about it, being truthful isn’t a pure measure of one’s integrity. Sometimes, sincerity is better served by knowing when to keep your mouth shut.

I still have trouble with that lesson. 3-beer Andy is way more affable but just that more likely to stick his foot in his mouth. Maybe my friends are more forgiving now; or maybe they have just learned to tune me out. I still hate the social fakers and people who respond with grandiose clichés and insincere flattery. I still have little appreciation for the subtly of social grace, though I practice when I can. I guess to me, it comes down people liking me for who I am, which take it or leave it, means accepting that I will say what’s on my mind. Because if I’m being honest with you, I expect the same from you right back.

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