It has only been within the past couple years that I’ve embraced a nutty trait of mine. This nutty trait which doesn’t really have a good name but has led me through this life. All the while trying to get me to embrace it. Almost smacking me in the face with it. But I didn’t listen. When you’re a talker in school, teachers don’t support it. My sisters and I talk with strangers while shopping because my mom does. It’s genetic. I’m loud and honest when I talk which usually leads some to believe I’m rude and out of line. I picked Journalism cause it was linked with Public Relations. Not because it allowed legitimized stories or used my writing skills, but because I thought I’d be good at the PR part. I developed my photography style out of necessity. I’m lazy. Why spend time cleaning the scene? People (somewhat strangers) tell me things and usually end with: I have no idea why I’m telling you this. I guess I’m a good listener. I guess, but I highly doubt it. Chalked it up to being nosy or a pot-stirrer.
But writing and photography has made this trait so evident that I no longer ignore one of my best qualities.
I’m a talker. I’m a digger. I’m nosy. And yes, sometimes I’m a pot stirrer. I’ll put a nice spin on it: I’m a storyteller/storygather-er. (Yes, I made up the last word)
I simply enjoy communicating with other people.
I shoot my way because it tells my story the only way I can. Honestly.
I write bluntly and honestly because I find no need in presenting a fake life. It helps no one. And being honest helps everyone accept life as is: beautiful, messy, chaotic, but always doable.
I listen to my friends and strangers because everyone deserves an ear not because I’m nosy (which I am). Everyone deserves to feel like their struggle is important. And deserves a celebration when news is good.
I love the stories our lives provide. I love your stories. I love hearing them and watching your face light up or fall flat depending of the tone. I love telling, sharing, and digging into my own stories. I have no filter and maybe I should work on that. But I figure if someone doesn’t like it, they won’t share. You don’t have to be friends with everyone. You’ve got your tribe. And I might not be a part of it. I’m at an age where I’m good with this.
I believe we share our stories because eventually we hit gold. Your stories lead you to your greatest allies in life. And they provide a comfort and support that this insane life demands.
Thank you for always reading. Thank you for sharing your own experiences in the comments or in the emails.
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I’m grateful for you. You help make this insane life richer, more interesting, and fucking brilliant.