|Jesse catching wind...|
Blah, blah, blah, blah, blah, blah.
Honestly, the amount of talking I do requires an inordinate amount of listening. You, my listener, should be awarded a medal. My words tumble out as if they were shoved into an unorganized, overstuffed closet. Such rude children, my words are. Does order matter to them? Are you kidding? My words rush to get out and it takes so much energy and discipline to keep them in. Dinner time, kids! Stay in! No! My words scream. And so I choke on them again.
You, listener, are sometimes offended because of my lack of organizational skills. Sometimes you hear something completely different than what I had intended. Is it any wonder? It came slowly to me that maybe I should pay closer attention to the order of my words. Maybe I need to discipline my children and make them wait to come out. Children, single file please. No pushing, no shoving. Be good.
It was a shock when I realized, you, listener, did not want to listen...to everything. Here I thought we were having fun, that you were waiting by the phone for me to call and speak my words. You have other things to do? Really? My thoughts expressed in a jumbled heap a' mess do not matter to you? Hmmm, really?!
I read and define unknown words using context clues. Funny thing, I rarely let context rule when I speak. You misunderstood my compliment, my encouragement, because the space in which I shared it was completely out of context. Your confusion is understandable, my lack of context is avoidable so I need to pay closer attention.
There is no imminent timer ready to blare if I don't share. I can wait my turn but my words beg relentlessly to get out and now. I grow weary at their entitlement. They scream and throw temper tantrums. "Let us out! Let us out!" And so I relent. And it often ends up that I have to repent.
Words jumble and stumble out my trap door. Your silence, dear listener, speaks loud. So, I write in a feeble attempt to bring order to the court. Thank you, reader, for your patience as a listener.