Friday, January 18, 2013

Hello. This is me.

I love those conversation games that people play when they're waiting for a bus, or riding a bus, or waiting for their table to be bussed. "Crowbar," or "Twenty Questions," or "Truth or Dare" (but leave out the dare because I just get nervous. The extended sleepover version of "Truth, Dare, Double Dare, Promise or Repeat" would just leave me with compounded ulcers). I love games where the only skills required are telling a) the truth, and b) stories about myself. I could tell and tell all the live-long day, and believe that behind me, the crowd is chanting "MVT! MVT*!"

When someone asks, "If you could meet anyone, dead or alive, who would you meet?" I always know just what I would like. If I could meet anyone, I would like to meet me. I would meet myself as an outsider (not Tala but hopefully someone kind, observant, and analytical), and size myself up. I would get that golden first impression, and people-watch myself with a great intensity, noting my quirks and graces, smiles, gestures and freckles that I've never been able to see. (I know. There are mirrors. Not the same!) I mean, what do I really look like when I sneeze? When I laugh? When I'm fuming in a passive aggressive manner at the people who insist on cutting ahead of me in concert ticket lines?

As much as I can tell my own stories into the ground, I don't really know what it's like to receive them, what it's like to receive me. (To type it like so lays that narcisissm out plain, with a blinking little cursor joining the "LOOKuphere! LOOKuphere!")

Still. I'm just saying.


*Most Valuable Teller

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