Those who I’m close to often comment on my rather sharp sense of humor but I tend to use that as a doorway, not a weapon, mind you. I have a tendency to share stories which carry a great deal of emotional weight. My preference is to avoid being entertaining, choosing instead to focus on revealing something underneath. Let’s just call it my “warning label”.
For starters, I’ll attempt to make you laugh before I make you think. I will ask uncomfortable questions because comfortable answers rarely change anyone. Loyalty comes easily but trust does not. If I care about you, I will challenge you, defend you, and occasionally disappear to recharge before returning as if no time had passed. It might be difficult for some to believe, but I collect more moments than possessions, truths more than approval. Take a chance if you will and mistake my quiet for weakness if you must. Trust me, I will survive such a misunderstanding.
Fair warning to any and all interested parties, I am not everyone’s cup of tea as I’m much too curious to stay shallow. I’m much too damn stubborn to pretend and may “accidentally” expose your blind spots while wrestling with my own.
Beyond the doorway, with my warning label pushed to the side, I never tire of peeling people back to who they really are, not to judge them, more to understand them. Everyone has a version of themselves they share with strangers, another they show their friends, and one they carry when no one is looking. That’s the person who garners my interest. Polished stories rarely teach me (or anyone else) anything. It’s those cracks that let the light through. Every conversation is another chance to discover why someone became who they are…including me.
I never get tired of finding meaning where other people overlook it. A forgotten photograph, an old scar. A joke with perfect timing, a quiet act of kindness that nobody applauds. Life hides its best lessons in ordinary places and I’ve been fortunate in life to discover so many. In some ways, this has made me slower to judge, quicker to listen, and endlessly curious about what lies beneath the surface of others.
I’ve stopped trying to be easily understood. Some people need everything wrapped neatly, labeled clearly, and delivered without any commotion. I am not built that way as I ask questions which make people uncomfortable. I’ve learned that growth rarely happens inside comfortable conversations. I manage to laugh often, sometimes at the absolute absurdity of life and others, sometimes at myself. Once in a while, my sarcastic humor has carried me through places that tears alone could not.
Acquaintances? I don’t collect them, I collect stories. I remember the details people think no one notices. Screw popularity, I value honesty over that, truth over approval. I’ve earned the criticism from people who mistake honesty for hardness and independence for arrogance. Hell, they’re all entitled to their opinions as I am entitled to keep becoming the person I was meant to be. I’ve spent too much of my life explaining my intentions to those people committed to misunderstanding them. These days, I let my character do the talking as it has a better vocabulary than my defenses ever did.
If this requires a warning label, let it read: Proceed with honesty and caution. I do.
From the Writer’s Workshop: If each person had a warning label, what would yours say? What’s something you never seem to get tired of doing?
