I am an epic story teller. As a kid, I used to be reprimanded for making up these elaborate stories based on a single, very small grain of truth. I once convinced my older sister that there was a student named “Tape” in my first grade class, when in fact his name was Chase. But that didn’t stop me. I don’t know why I told these stories, maybe I liked the captive audience, or maybe I was simply bored with the mundane. I read fantastic tales and told the same to my friends around me. I still have a penchant for a good story, a good laugh, and I am notoriously transparent about any embarrassing stories. But, then there is a the matter of this blog. I hesitate to write a lot of stories here because I’m just not sure who is reading… and in the off chance a friend stumbles across my blog – I don’t want them to be embarrassed. I’m not one to be embarrassed easily, but I’ve been told that I often embarrass my friends because I simply say what I think. I try to keep stories about my friends to myself, and try only to tell stories about myself. And, as a hyper critical person, I try to keep my criticisms to myself also because I know that my caustic sense of right and wrong, stupid and smart, and worthy and worthless is often taken poorly.
So, I hope you enjoy the endless hours of stories and criticisms of… ME and only ME. But now you know why… not because I’m horribly egocentric (maybe just a little), but because I considered what my friends might feel should they read my little slice of honesty on the web.