Keep it up

I read somewhere to have an active blog people will continually follow, you have to post every day. I repeat, every. day. Who has that kind of time? More importantly, who has that much to say? I can write my list for Target, if that will interest people. Otherwise, no new blog post until something strikes me.

I don't think I have much to say. I try not to say much at all. I've been labeled an introvert by Myers-Briggs, the mother-daughter duo who have branded people for decades. My friends would probably laugh at the thought of me being an introvert. I try to be the jester when I'm around them. But when it's people I don't know, or don't want to know, I either force myself to say something, or say nothing at all.

I remember when I was in the fourth grade, I decided I didn't want to answer the phone anymore. That was back when everyone had a land line and no one had a cell phone. I tell myself it lasted a year - which in the fourth grade, was a school year. August to May. Any time the phone rang, instead of jumping up and running down the hall from the living room to the kitchen (I guess this was before cordless. Yes, I am that old.) eagerly anticipating the voice on the other end, I'd linger on the floor, examining my toenails or tracing the carpet pattern with a finger.

When I finally learned to drive, I was afraid to order at a drive-thru. If my friends and I were going to grab something to eat, I made sure I wasn't driving. Or I'd make up an excuse as to why it was funnier if the passenger leaned over me, jutted her chin out the window, and shouted our order. Sounds fun to me!

At my current job, I cold call. Worst. Thing. Ever. I stutter and stammer, my voice faltering. The first call always go terribly. Once I bomb the first time, the rest are ok.

I think I don't like talking to people when I can't see expressions. I want to know how you're reacting to what I'm saying. Of course, this is incredibly ironic since I'm blogging and I have no idea what your reaction is. I'll just pretend you're chuckling to yourself, maybe wiping away a tear or laughter or shaking your head ruefully and sighing, "Oh, Stacy." At least, that's what I'd like you to do.

Or you can just tell me what you think. I may not be much of a talker, but I'm a great listener.