Thursday, January 29, 2009

New at the ArtHouse Cafe- Writings by Gretchen Kuntz De Stefano

Tell Me Baby; What’s Your Story?

I am convinced we all have a story. Most of us have shared excerpts of our lives in numerous ways. We tell our tragedies, victories, and fantasies to close friends over cups of mediocre coffee. We reconnect with relatives catching up at tedious family reunions. Our co-workers go off on monologues of current fiascos and we interrupt with empathic renditions of our own.

These stories, reflections, accounts are our way of communicating our life’s meaning. We want to confirm our being, our existence chronicled some way. Some of us are great story-tellers. The listener can tear up at our latest disappointment by our inflection and tone. They can delight with us in humor as we relay our klutzy behavior at a cocktail party or convey how the piece of spinach remained coating our front teeth while flirting at a bar.

The extrovert shares a lot of these antidotes, usually unsolicited. It’s easy to know where they are in life, who they love, how they will bring misery to a foe, or how, when having too many Alabama Slammers, they grabbed the band’s mic and sang “We are Family” at Cousin Marcy’s reception. Of course, it can reach the TMI (too much information) zone. Daily play-by-plays of little Billy’s high scoring at all the soccer games, remodeling plans that involve intricate ceramic tile details, and the foot fungus that plagues them, backed up with visual evidence!

Most of us have experienced the dreaded holiday letter summarizing, in 1,000 words or less, a year’s worth of triumphs and challenges. Mostly triumphs, however. The dream job, vacation of a lifetime...blah, blah. Disgusted or enthralled, we read on and take in another’s words and voice, putting another notch in the timeline and draw our own conclusions of the writer’s intent.

We are not all outspoken, of course. The introvert is journaling in a well-worn spiral notebook from his/her bedside table. A day in the life inked on the paper noting habits, disgraces, and small accomplishments. Forever in print, the realness of their journey takes meaning. Maybe even a hidden desire that someone, in a distant future, will stumble across their memoir and give proclamation to their earthly stint.

The ways of communicating our lives are endless. Texting, e-mailing, blogging, and web pages dedicated to our spaces and our faces are now our tools. Cheers to the person who still sees the charm in archaic ink and parchment! We are still seeking the same age-old result; to tell our story, to have another hear, take interest, and, above all, agree we exist.

No comments:

Post a Comment