:: Sunday, January 23, 2005 ::

Some of you may remember Another 48 Hours, an online writing competition I used to participate in. Well, at the beginning of January we revived it, and for one reason or another, I forgot to mention it in here. In any case, I am competing again this year, as well as acting as administrator. This week's challenge is about feet in mouths. Here's my response:

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Stories were a big part of my childhood.

My favourites were always the ones about myself. I’d like to blame that on the universal narcissism of children, but to this day, I like hearing those stories.

There is one that takes place at the dinner table. It was a family dinner, featuring my brother, parents, grandparents, and perhaps a scattering of aunts, uncles and cousins. I was about four years old, give or take, and I was telling my own stories -- fiction or nonfiction, I don’t remember. Finally, after his nerves were thoroughly shot, my deaf Grandfather slammed his fist down on the table, and declared with raised volume:

“Katy! Be quiet!”

A request to which the whole table acquiesced –- and, a request to which I replied:

“… but… okay, but I just have ONE more thing to say.”

This was to a man who, I’m told, all the other grandchildren and great grandchildren feared. But not me. On another occasion, the story goes, I responded to an equally intimidating reprimand by smacking him on the knee and shouting right back:

“Don’t you yell at me, Grandpa!”

These stories remind me of how, since birth, I have been determined to speak and be heard. Further, they remind me of how that determination has plowed through adversity, intimidation, and sometimes, frankly, good reason.

I have said a good number of things in my life that I’m not proud of – especially recently. It is as if for a year or more I have felt that there are things I shouldn’t say, or don’t have the right to say, and now I’m rejecting all of that. I have the right to express my feelings, even if they are sometimes rash and fleeting, right? Back to that youthful determination, it seems. But youth often lack one important thing:

Wisdom.

And so I complain about making an effort for those who love me, and then have reason to regret. And I drink too much and open floodgates which should really remain closed, and then have reason to regret. But it goes both ways. Sometimes I keep my mouth closed, realizing that, having shut myself up about certain things, I no longer know how to speak. So I don’t. And then have reason to regret.

So this is what I’ve learned: my foot will always end up in my mouth, either out loud and according to others, or in my head and my own opinion. So, I may often have the pleasure of feasting on foot, crow, and humble pie --

but hey, at least I’m not going hungry.


~song~ Julie Andrews - Stay Awake

:: Katy 9:40 p.m. [+] :: ::