An Excuse


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I figure writing this blog is good for a number of reasons, allow me to explain.

#1- Sorry I’m popular

I have a large family & a lot of friends. This means recounting, in excruciating detail and with equal fervor, the same events numerous times. Inevitably, someone loses out, taking that kind of dedication to storytelling is impossible- I get lazy or refuse to mention them at all. That’s truly a shame—my stories, like me, are amazing.

#2- Me talk pretty one day

I’m a much better writer than I am speaker. It’s true, I admit it. I talk a mile a minute and I get so caught up trying to keep up with my brain that I skip over the good stuff and drop the punchline. Don’t get me wrong, with enough planning in advance I can rehearse a story like no other, but there is no doubt that the written word is my medium. It just lends itself to a greater ability to use proper diction. To me, a finesse with diction is simply an extension of efficiency. Why use a bland word, or a string of words, when you can pause and think and use that word that brings out the soul of your meaning. Now that is art.

(PS. I will send something special to the first person to post where “Me talk pretty one day” comes from)

#3- What was I saying again?

I have a terrible memory. Don’t get me wrong, I remember the weirdest things. Like the face of that girl who was on my cheerleading team for a week 13 years ago. She was a quitter, I cannot forget the face of failure. But forget trying to pry information from my head if you ask me something practical like:

Nurse: When was the date of your last period?

Me: stares blankly, looks at the ceiling, thinks, continues thinking, squints, counts, closes her eyes, thinks, counts again, another blank stare, looks the nurse dead in the eye—maybe that will trigger something, maybe SHE knows the answer– I dunno. Sometime inconvieniant. Can I phone a friend?

Literally once I called a friend from the waiting room before my appointment to ask when I borrowed a tampon in preparation for this question. Although what does it say about her that she remembered the last time she lent me a tampon?

Wow, this post took an ugly turn. My sincerest apologies and deepest thanks for sticking through it.

About my memory, as demonstrated above in my graphic and grossly inappropriate example, it’s atrocious. So if you expect me to remember the things that happened even say, a week later, unless it was highly influential in shaping my worldview—you’re SOL. Instead, you will end up with a rambling of random things that happened at some point in time.

Me: There was a dog and a weather balloon and some lady was crying.
Confused Co-Conversationalist: Were they in the weather balloon?
Me: Oh no, that was last year. It just reminded me of that other time. But overall, I was really disappointed with the quiche.

Are you lost? I should hope so because that kind of nonsense is only intelligible to people on salvia and those with severe mental disorders. If I ever meet someone who can make sense of my half-remembered gibberish I will march them over to the church and marry them straight away—man, woman, horse, irrelevant! Clearly it’s kismet.

However, I’m going to confess that my concern is not with being able to accurately recount my adventures to other people. I’m far too self-centered for that. My concern is that I won’t remember for myself. So I’m creating sort of a real-time scrapbook forever woven into the tapestry of the internet. Like an elephant, the internet never forgets.

60 years from now, when my hair is grey (or heavily covered in dye), my eyes have long since lost their focus, my body is brittle and weak, and my ears are muted from rock music and cellphones—I will have my robot companion put in my hearing aid and read to me about my adventures as I knit my cat a sweater. Although there is a possibility that the future involves medical advances which stop the aging process, but thats a much less dramatic picture.

#4- Me, Myself and I

I know sitting around and reading about me discussing my favorite topic, myself is fairly annoying. But you know what’s more annoying? Sitting around and listening to me talk about myself for hours. This blog is a godsend. You can take as much of my self-centered ramblefest as you want, before you hit the vomit point and all you have to to is click away until you feel the need to return.

Even if no one reads it, it will satisfy my narcissism, preventing me from feeling the need to discuss every mundane detail of my life to you.

#5- I’m lazy.

Let’s be real. If I don’t call you, it may or may not be because I’m busy. I’m notorious for staring off into space for hours, yes HOURS, at a time. I don’t need TV or Internet to procrastinate. I just need my own mind and something to think about. So, the reason we haven’t spoken in 6 months is not necessarily because I’ve been so consumed with all those things I should have been consumed with (and probably told you I was consumed with). And furthermore, you aren’t the only person I have been unconsciously avoiding (without malintent-of course). The task of calling all those people and catching up is fairly daunting and I’m lazy. Instead, when one of us finally gets around to the awkward facebook chat or text, or God forbid phone call “Hey. What you been up to? It’s been forever.” I can simply type www.thestarspangledgirl.wordpress.com.

And hell, I know you, its better for you too! You don’t have to sit there for 2 hours and pretend to be interested(see #4) as I do a halfass job (see#1) of explaining events I barely remember (see #3) with mediocre skill (see #2).You’re welcome.

A toast: To blogs, friend to egocentricts and friends of egocentricts, alike

“I sincerely believe blogging can save America.”
~John Jay Hooker

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