In 1997, I, like many other people, went to see Titanic. I was 18 years old, and thought that it was The. Best. Movie. EVER. Way before Edward and Jacob, there was Jack Dawson. I was struck down by Leo Love, and it was serious. The morning after I saw the movie, I sat in the kitchen with my mom and I told her the movie. Let me clarify: I didn't tell her *about* the movie. From the opening scene to the closing credits, I replayed the whole movie in my head, and told her (scene by scene) the entire movie. (I have an uncanny ability to practically memorize a film, even the dialogue, the first time I see it - if I like it enough.) We sat at our kitchen table, for what seemed like hours, as I wove the tragic tale of Jack and Rose, in my own words. When I was finished, my mom sat with tears streaming down her cheeks and said, "I must see this movie!"
That afternoon, I waited patiently for my mom to return from the theater. When she got home, her face was dry and there were no tissues in her hand. Confused, I said, "Well?? What did you think? Didn't you absolutely love it??" She replied,
"Meh. It was okay. I liked the way you told it better."
(Blogger's Note: Titanic went on to win ELEVEN Academy Awards. And, according to a movie-goer, I "told it better." Take that, James Cameron. Who's King of the World, now?!)
From that moment on, if my mom wants to see a movie, she usually just waits until I see it, and then asks me to tell her about it. Although, it doesn't always work. A few months ago, I called her and began to tell her about Toy Story 3. I made it through what would have been the first ten minutes of the movie. She became so hysterical; she begged me to stop. I never even got to finish, and she still cried for a week. (Thank God I didn't make it to the end.)
While my mom sees my ability to recap a movie as gift, most see it as a curse. My husband, my family, my friends, and probably even the followers of my blog, would probably point out one specific characteristic when asked to describe me.
They would say that I am extremely long winded.
I love to talk and I love to tell long stories. But I don't see myself as "long winded." I see myself as someone who pays very close attention to detail, and then shares those details. That's why I tell movies so well. I share details when I tell someone about a movie, about my day, or about my experience at the McDonald's drive-thru window. I can take a scenario that lasted five minutes, and turn it into a twenty minute narrative. In my head, I think that if it is important enough to talk about, why not make it as detailed as possible? I appreciate movies. I appreciate my kids. I appreciate my life and everyday experiences. And I want to make sure that everyone else does, too. Maybe it is a narcissistic notion to think that everyone is interested in the same things that I am interested in, but I just can't help myself. Those that love me, understand.
My college roommates became so accustomed to my elaborate tales, that they would say, "Oh, God... is this going to be an 'Anna Story', because we really need to go study!" But they always listened, anyway. Or, at least they pretended that they did. When my husband gets home from work, and I say, "Guess what happened to me at the Post Office this morning..." he takes a deep breath and says, "Wait a minute. Let me pee, get a drink, and sit down, and then you can tell me all about it." I like to think that the people around me appreciate the way that I tell my stories. Sure, it's funny that Henry threw a temper tantrum at the bank. But it's funnier once you find out that there were twelve people in line to witness it, one of which was one of my parent's old friends who I haven't seen in years, and that it was time for the teller to take a break. These things are important.
Don't get me wrong. I know I have a problem. I do tell long stories. And I write long blog posts. And I usually have a hard time fitting my Facebook status into the limited space provided. So, I guess maybe I am long winded. But I promise, despite all of this, I am also a very good listener. Anyone who has ever told me anything can rest assured that I listened to every word that they said. And then I revised it in my head, corrected the poor grammar, and added my own spin, so that when I retold it to someone else later, it sounded much better.
Yeah, I know. I should have probably mentioned that I am also terrible at keeping secrets.
But that's another story...