Everybody lies -- or do they? Do you lie? Is there a difference between a "white lie" and a more harmful lie? Are there circumstances when it is acceptable to lie? How do you feel when someone lies to you and you discover it?
Your task: Write a paragraph (7-10 sentences) in which you discuss some aspect of lying. Your paragraph could be a personal experience with lying. Perhaps you would like to explore how our culture may (or may not) encourage lying. Your stance on the topic is up to you. Be sure to use correct capitalization and punctuation. Respond by midnight Tuesday, April 5, 1011.
My response: I have never been a good liar. When I was young, I would try to cover up my misdeeds by telling a lie, but it was easy to see right through me. I can clearly remember one incident in which I was confronted by my mother in the bathroom. My mother was standing in front of the toilet, the brightness of the sink's strip light shining on her as if she were purposely spotlighted to enhance her authority. I stood in semi-darkness as she accused me of lying to her. As I proceeded to tell that untruth, the palms of my hands began to sweat profusely. Wiping my hands on my pants, I knew I was stumbling and stammering over my explanation. All the while, I repeatedly wiped my sweaty hands on my pants. The incident about which I was lying has long since fled my memory; its importance was overshadowed by my realization that I was a bad liar. I am grateful for that realization and its resultant humiliation -- it has made me scrupulously honest, even when it is personally embarrassing. In my mind it is better to tell the truth than to be caught in a lie.