I have three sisters. Technically, two of them are step-sisters. Their dad’s name is Shawn. And Shawn loves Bruce Springsteen. I stood at Shawn’s shoulder when he narrated a conversation he had – during his 37th Boss concert – with a guy who had attended over 150 shows.
Ever realize you didn’t love something as much as you thought you did?
I’ve been there, too. Years before that conversation with Shawn I thought I loved steak. My dad thought otherwise.
“If you really loved it, you wouldn’t cover it with A-1 sauce. People who truly love steak eat it by itself.”
Touche.
He also got my sister with scrambled eggs (ketchup was her mistress).
It actually proved true. Recently my medium rare filets and I filed a restraining order against steak sauce. I don’t even wanna see it on the table.
Enough.
So what do you want other people to know about you?
You’re writing your chapters every time you post something on Facebook, for example.
When your friend posts a George Carlin clip is he really desperate to make you laugh or letting you know he identifies with that type of humor?
Are you that in love with the vase of flowers on your desk or is it a just chance to tell everyone that your boyfriend pays attention to you?
Of course, our clothes and friends and a million other things help us write our chapters, too. This is a good thing. It makes the world interesting.
No matter your story, I bet it’s awesome. Seriously.
We’re way more interested in other people and their stories than we often care to reveal. Including yours. And no one will ever tell it better than you. That’s why the best story each of us can tell is our own.
Your own. To its fullest. Without compromise.
Because when something’s really good you eat it by itself.
Like steak.
Photo credit: cookbookman17
