Me and My Big Mouth
I like to talk. If no one is around, I still talk. More than anything, I like to tell stories. Unfortunately, though I think most people find me entertaining, this can come to their detriment.
Case in point, last night Crystal and I went to dinner with my cousin Amber and her good friend visiting her from Italy. This girl seemed very interesting, but I cannot tell you a thing about her because I never shut up long enough for her to talk. I realize that this new incarnation of my blog has been really nothing but psychiatric therapy for me, and much like my post from a few months back about spending time with elder family members, I hope to also begin to listen to others more--not just listen, but actually ask them questions and show interest in their lives. I can't help wanting to tell stories--I'm fairly certain that is what I've been put here to do--that and use dashes--but I can definitely help making people feel like I don't give a care about them.
Case in point, last night Crystal and I went to dinner with my cousin Amber and her good friend visiting her from Italy. This girl seemed very interesting, but I cannot tell you a thing about her because I never shut up long enough for her to talk. I realize that this new incarnation of my blog has been really nothing but psychiatric therapy for me, and much like my post from a few months back about spending time with elder family members, I hope to also begin to listen to others more--not just listen, but actually ask them questions and show interest in their lives. I can't help wanting to tell stories--I'm fairly certain that is what I've been put here to do--that and use dashes--but I can definitely help making people feel like I don't give a care about them.
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(Okay, my word verification is "minest," which kind of concerns me. Is it telling me I'm more selfish than I thought I was, because I do the story-telling thing? Like, I'm the "mine"-est person in the world?)