was brought up Methodist. But a very unstrict Methodist (that must have my ancestors rolling in their graves – they used to be stump preachers) since I didn’t even know we practiced Lent. Really. The first time I even considered practicing Lent (and the idea of sacrificing something for the good of your personal well-being, if not your soul) came as a bet from a Catholic friend of mine (she’s so Catholic, I’m wondering if she doesn’t patrol the city’s rooftops in the moonlight with a cape). But there I go again. It’s what I do. I’m a natural storyteller.
I’ve noticed this a lot. Everyone else stands around the coffee pot at work griping about their commutes or bad weekends, and I want to spool off a sea-story. Or the plot of a novel I just finished. Or a series of events that lead to a cosmic realization. Or my trip through the stars, hopping from one to the next, searching for an elusive Messier Object. Hey, it’s what I do. And yes, I do see the eye-rolling and secret grimaces. I’m a Mark Twain storyteller in a sound bite age. So be it.
Having just gone over to the team I am loosely associated with and told a story to a couple of backs (nobody even grunted), I am increasingly of the thought that for Lent this year, I should give up storytelling. Oh, I will still answer direct questions about my commute or weekend, and I’ll still talk and breathe and think; I just won’t emote. So yes, it will be very quiet. But I think perhaps I’ll learn something (as will those around me – when their stream of stories dry up, they’ll have to go to their sad twitter sources for amusement). So, yes, I’m firming up on that. No embellishments. No exaggerations. No colorful descriptions.
I’m still not without caveats. As I said in a recent DOG EAR, I have a column to put out. I’m not going to discuss the use of pronouns or other dry topics. If something happens that is blog-fodder, I’ll post it up. After all, it’s what this site is founded on – storytelling and life experiences (well, mine. Start your own damn blog). Further, I’m looking at spending time with my best friend on his fiftieth birthday, just him-and-me time. I was in a quandary about that, but another Catholic girl told me to “not be Spock” and just have a good time. So, yes, there is that. But I’ve really felt myself firming and warming to this idea.
Actually, I’ll probably blog about my experiences over the weeks of limited storytelling.
Be ready for some really exaggerated blogs.
Hey, that’s different!)