My son has been working night shifts, so imagine my surprise when I saw his car in the garage when I arrived home tonight. What a nice surprise, he has a day off and I may get to spend some time with him. When he came downstairs to greet me, I was informed that he had been called into work. I giggled, and then I shared my thought with him. “You know who I am. I was thinking, did they catch you mid-jerk?” He looked at me with a grin and replied, “No, I was finished.” That’s my kid!
Can you imagine how hard it was to be raised by me? Always sharing my thoughts, inappropriate and blunt, I just can’t help myself. I’ve been a mind slut since high school, even though I didn’t receive my first kiss till just before my 20th birthday. I was rather clueless about the subject matter, but I thought about sex, a lot. As the years rolled by, I realized that I could put a sexual connotation to just about anything and with my innocent looking face, the shock factor was priceless.
My son had a Halloween party this past weekend. I told him that I would be working, but I would say hello to his friends when I got home and then make myself scarce. He said that wasn’t necessary, but keep the conversation void of politics and religion. I can do that and I spent the majority of the time chatting with one of my son’s high school chums. I showed him my new Speed Racer artwork, he was very impressed and made note of the website I acquired it from. I talked to him about my brother’s passing, work and my lack of interest in ever dating again. Then, I told him about my writing and how I keep wondering about the project I began, but then the pandemic hit and it stalled.
He said that he listens to podcasts all the time and that I should do it, without worrying about its success, just like I do with my blog. I could just do it for fun and let it live on the internet. A couple of other party guest joined out kitchen conversation. I had a beer in me, so I started to tell stories about my father’s stories and the different variations I have heard over the years and wondered about their validity. I talked about my ill-fated marriage and my hash tag #thelieswechoosetolivewith and how it’s been a reoccurring theme in my life. I talked about how much the movie Rashomon influenced my relationships and thought process, how there are at least three sides to every story. I told them about one of the best compliments that I have ever received about my writing, that I make people feel like they are actually there, which began with my erotica phase many moons ago (I told you, I am, who I am). And then, I took a breath and let others speak. I left the kitchen and went to my office. I was done being the storyteller for the night.
The one guest, a charming young lady, gave me a wonderful compliment. She said, “I could listen to you for hours.” That was very nice of her to say. I didn’t know if she was just being polite and was glad that I had stopped talking, or if she sincerely meant it. Either way, it got me thinking. I know, a dangerous thing for me to do, but what if it’s time for me to start recording again? It’s not like I even have to post it, I could just record my thoughts, read my blogs out loud and comment on them. I mean, why not? I have the equipment and I most definitely have the time since I don’t have much of a life outside of work, huh.
Something to think about. I can just talk and edit out the moments that might give me some grief. Maybe I can even figure out a way to record my conversations with Ray without her actually being in my office, since our lives are on different frequencies these days. Definitely, something to think about…tomorrow. It’s been a long week…months, actually and I need to get some rest. Maybe I’ll manifest something wonderful tomorrow, or the next day, but for now, it’s nice to think about the possibilities.
#thelieswechoosetolivewith
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