sometimes the story is better than the reality

Is this only true for me?

Those times/days/situations where something happens.  In real life.  In a regular day.  

And right away you know you’re going to turn it into a story.  You know you’re going to share it later – for me, maybe on this blog – or, with a friend over tea or on a Voxer message or at your next dinner together.  You know it’ll make a funny tale.  You know you’ll revisit the story and it will take on a life of its own and you’ll be able to laugh about it and see it in a different light.

It’s THAT kind of story.

But the living it is way less entertaining.  Way less fun.

But the story.

The story is going to be golden.

Yeah.

That happens all the time to me.

It’s as if my life invites such stories.  Such incidents.  

And my brain automatically thinks, “I better write this down.”  And I instinctively start reframing the event.   Start thinking of where I want to start the story and how I will set the stage.  What last line I might use.

Half the time, I don’t finish the post or send the message or retell the story at all.  I forget or, more often, I manage to half write it.  I start the words in one of the myriad of notebooks I carry around for such purposes.  I have a dozen voice memos to myself with story starts and story ideas and not quite finished ramblings.

It’s going to be a real mess for someone to clean up one day.

(Pretty sure I’ll leave instructions to set it all on fire.  It’s likely for the best.)

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