An Interesting Life:

Having passed through the gateway into the second quarter of my life (albeit two years ago) I take the time to review the last quarter of a century as seen through my eyes. Mind you, this introspective piece is actually inspired by a recent comment to the effect that I am an awful story teller. While this is a title that has plagued me for most of my life- I had not heard it for quite some time. The shock which this reintroduction of old themes presented caused me to question the origin of my particular brand of storytelling, which some might call lame but that I refer to as awesome. I've narrowed it down to three possibilities. One- I've led a drab, dull life full of fake stories. I went to war, only it was a fake war. I went on a 'blind date' only it was a fake date. I do 'extreme' sports only I'm not quite on 'the level'. I got hypothermia only it was just 'moderate' and not severe. I've got scars, but they're from lame things like holding onto a hog for castration, close encounters with house cats, and an unfortunate trip to Deer Valley. I'm not necessarily complaining, I'm just offering it up as a possible explanation for my paltry story telling ability: I simply don't have any good stories. This explanation doesn't really satisfy, however. The second possibility is that I just have an awful, quirky memory and I can't remember the right details to remain relevant to my story telling audience. The third option is that I'm just oblivious and I don't remember the details because I never processed them in the first place. I'm just naturally slow and so the fast paced events that should be a good story go unnoticed, whereas the lame, slow events get recycled over and over again.
At any rate, I needed to write something down and see if anyone has something to say about it. It being either my life or my story telling ability. My head's spinning, there's been a lot going on lately. Just trying to wrap my head around it and drive on.