The days are long and the years are short. How true! So I’ve decided to write.
I’m interested in stories. Life stories. Funny stories. Deep stories. Stories have lessons. Difficult or easy. Frustrating or relieving.
I hate small talk. Seriously hate it.
I’m all about the deep questions. The underlying factors that drive people. What people believe. What they desire. What they love. I’m all about the passion. The caffeine buzz. The thing that makes a person explode with a reason to breathe, live and carry on with NYC life.
I love a good conversation. I love gatherings. I love long nights of laughter mixed with tears. You know those deep talks that get friends all emotional, sharing heart aches or life dreams. Friendships make my heart flutter. I love a home cooked meal and the people who surround it.
That’s what makes me squeal. Ask my hubby :-). I love people and what they bring to the table. Not the food- although who can hate an applepie. But I love the mess they may bring. The mess we all bring. Not a physical mess. But the messiness of life. Their quirks and personality. Their likes and dislikes. Their passionate speeches on politics, devotion to a recent film or praises for a song they just heard. I love the creativity that spills out of them and the jokes that are never ending. Most of all, I love the stories that dwell in each of them. Just simply waiting to unleash and burst forth.
I’m so satisfied after a gathering. Like I ate a huge meal. Cause I probably did stuff my face thanks to my lack of self control when it comes to anything carbs and cheese and lemonade.
But it’s not the food. Its never the food. It’s always the stories.
And for that, I’m completely thankful for.