Bitch I am not talking about what had happened to you! Should my poor loved ones ever be misguided enough to ask for my advice I always begin with, “Well, I remember the time that…” They roll their eyes and probably wish they had kept their problems to themselves. But the truth is, I am listening, this is just how I relate. Stories are how I make sense of the past, and how I navigate the present. Perhaps you were wondering if you should go on a date with one of your co-workers and when you happen to run it by me for some reason I have to launch into the story of the time I almost quit the fourth grade talent show, but instead we rocked out some of the finest Michael Jackson lip-syncing any one clad in a pink tutu could have pulled off . . . ever. And this relates to you how, you wonder. Because! I am trying to tell you to take a risk, to go for it; I just always have to get there through a story. Annoying, I know.
“Past is prologue,” my beloved English teacher was fond of quoting. Well, I was all over that. When was I ever present? I was always that girl with my head in the clouds, or in books, or scribbling in notebooks. I lived in the past, recalling events and hashing and re-hashing their meaning. And like a neurotic soothsayer I was always trying to tell the future based on a story of the past.
Somebody somewhat important once said, “the unexamined life is not worth living.” I don’t know about all that, but the point is I have certainly examined mine. And yours. And his and theirs. I am girl ruled by her feelings. The following are but a few of the stories that shaped my feelings on the big things, like love and happiness.
Ms. Love n Happiness 