Reputation, reputation

Reputation, reputation, reputation! O! I have lost my reputation. I have lost the immortal part of myself, and what remains is bestial. My reputation, Iago, my reputation! – Cassio, Shakespeare’s Othello

I recently caught up with friends this past weekend, and had a chance to reflect on ‘reputations.’ It’s amazing how your reputation can follow you, yet you might never know exactly what it is.

You know the scenario, you meet someone, you figure out what town they’re from, what school they went to or where they work and bam. You’ve found a common link, and usually the shit starts.

You can pretend to say nothing or just let out all of the juice. Now your impression of your ‘friend’ or co-worker is mired and/or confirmed. The fakers among us will have always shown their weakness to someone and that disconnect (should their be one) will comprise your reputation.

I’m happy that I know what people think of me, mainly because I’m so bluntly honest that people only see it to tell me honestly how they feel or I’m aware (read: overly analytical and sensitive) enough to figure it out.

I’m an asshole, and to that I just shrug. Yet, I’m also a really nice person (when I want to be), and am pretty caring, loving and all of those other good things. I just happen to lack a central filter so I hardly pretend.

But I still find it interesting how you can put on a veneer and still be exposed for who you really are with the slightest degree of separation from a lover scorned, a friend lost or bridge otherwise burned.