A criticism an old boyfriend used to give me (I’ll leave out his name so that it doesn’t look like I’m complaining) is that I go too far back in time to start my stories.
“I ask you when did you return the video,” he’d say, “and you start with, ‘Back when I was six, I had these shoes, and…'”
But I still believe that sometimes you have to go a little farther back than you expected, so that the retelling has a similar emotional experience for you as it had for me when it happened.
So, back when I was six, I had these shoes, and…
Okay, not that far back. But it does start with me taking a bath.
I was in the bath a couple of weeks ago, and for some reason I started thinking of my TWoP bio page, and how I think I was supposed to update it about a year ago. (What? Don’t you get into the bath and think about all the things you were supposed to be doing instead of keeping your head underwater to drown out the reality of life? Just me? Oh.) Anyway, I was thinking about my TWoP bio page, because I’m weird. I was thinking, for some reason, about my list of likes and dislikes. Continue reading