up to 11


While ruminating on my week, I was reminded of a certain Christopher Guest movie. This one, in fact:

The unusual amount of time I spend thinking about Christopher Guest movies aside, I realized something important today. When it comes to who I am and how I express myself-or how I feel about anything or anyone I particularly like or dislike-I appear to live by the rule of Spinal Tap. I seem to stay parked somewhere between 10 or 11.

A good friend summed me up well a few years ago when he said, “You love what you love.” Never one to leave people guessing, other people I know have similar impressions. My friend Paige once commented on the fact that I always speak in superlatives. And, as we all know, my friends are never wrong.

I know I told you a week or so ago that I envy the mysterious types. Part of the reason for that is because they appear so placid and calm. They are able to resist the urge to shout everything from the nearest peak.

I on the other hand, cannot seem to turn down my volume. I don’t mean this in the completely-vacant-of-all-self-control sense of the phrase. But if we’re speaking in terms of an appetite for life, I act starved. I either applaud vociferously or boo with gusto.

And lately I wonder if that is as good a thing as it appears. I worry that I might be like a perfume: pleasant at first, but eventually so strong you kind of want to barf, run away, or sit on the other side of the table from me.  Lately, the topic of silence, or of leaving parts of ourselves to the imagination, are coming up over and over.

It’s like the Universe is trying to tell me something. As loud as It possibly can. . .

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