I talk too much.
I know this, because everyone all day long likes to make jokes about how much I talk. Oh, we do have a laugh, don’t we? You guys are *so funny*! Seriously though, I know I talk too much, so I try to be self-aware about it. I make an effort not to dominate conversations, but I realize that I still do it anyway. I just can’t seem to help it. I don’t think I’m one of those people who just likes to hear himself talk, but maybe everybody thinks that, even people who just like to hear themselves talk. I just get really excited about things. When you share a story, I think of a similar story that I want to tell you. When I see something funny or interesting, I want to tell you all about it. And I don’t want to leave out any of the important details along the way because that’s what makes the story so hilarious!
The thing is, I hate being trapped by people who just keep telling you stories and don’t let you escape. I hate it! But I have to seriously consider the case that I’m unwittingly doing that to other people. Furthermore, I suspect that it might not be so much of a problem at the moment (although I don’t think I’m in any position to judge that), but I worry about what it will be like when I’m older.
In fact, I even trap myself with stories sometimes. Specifically, there are times when I really want to get off the phone, but I just can’t help but add *one last story* that you made me think of…for hours at a time. There’s always one last story.
I’ve thought to myself, “Well, if you feel like you have so much to say, why not just write more blog posts? Then you can say your fill and people don’t have to get trapped by it.” It doesn’t seem to work that way. #1, there are so many more things I have to say than I have time enough to type them, #2, I realize a lot of the things I have to say are trivial and not really worth writing down, but that doesn’t mean I don’t want to say them, and #3, I have to say these things when they come up, in the context of the conversation. It would make no sense to spew them out randomly on the Internet.
I don’t know, I guess it’s like a disease that I will always have my whole life, that I will always have to be mindful of. So consider this a preemptive (or belated) apology, and please find a way to let me know if I’m doing this. Sara’s not shy about letting me know (as often as possible), but she’s not always around.