Poking my nose where it doesn’t belong

It used to be a bad thing – at least – I was taught poking my nose where it didn’t belong was a bad thing. Over the years I’ve come to realise that most of the stuff I was taught about appropriate social behaviour was half-truths or outright lies. I was supposed to behave in a way that was above reproach – while my elders gossiped behind each others’ backs, listened in on party lines and read every issue of the National Enquirer from cover to cover. Never mind the spouse swapping and other scandalous things I didn’t learn happened until much much later.

I heave a loud sigh… At least the pretense had some recognition of a better way to be. I haven’t seen a copy of the National Enquirer for 15 years now, and I wonder what sort of titillation they could possibly have on offer to compete with the evening news. We’re all poking our noses where it doesn’t belong all the time. Even if we don’t want to – we’ve been Pinnocchio-ised – noses stretched without our consent.

My camera’s caught it now. Some kind of virus, I guess… it’s been poking in where it doesn’t belong. I don’t quite understand what it’s trying to tell me though.

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