What Do You Think?

"Think over everything you say, and don't say everything you think."
—Dee

This is fine advice for someone who can think inside their head. My head is like an overstuffed, unorganized scrap-book drawer. Until I dump it all out, I don't know what's in there. Then I sort through, discover random bits and pieces, arrange them in different designs, and finally put it all together.

"Too much information."

You are the victim of my organization attempts. When I dump out my mind and sift through the junk, the dust settles in my blog.

"What I really meant was . . ."

Dee doesn't lay awake regretting the dumb things he said. He didn't say them. He never calls someone frantically after a conversation to try to restate what he meant, because he meant what he said the first time. I often say everything I think before I've had time to think it through, and then think better of it.

A man of few words.

Of course, Dee doesn't say much. Nobody knows him very well. He doesn't tell everyone his life story, and the life stories of everyone he knows, before they've finished lunch. People know me. My friends (and acquaintances) can tell my anecdotes better than I can, and correct me on the details. When I mention a memory, even my in-law kids can complete it in twenty-five words or less. I can't tell it in twenty-five words or less!

"Are you listening to me?"

I wrote a poem called Mama's Minutes that said:

"Mama had a diary she kept beside her bed,
I'd see her write by candlelight,
She said it cleared her head."

Nothing's going to change; I think I'll always clear my head by saying everything I think. It gives me a chance to think it over.

"Just thinking . . ."

Have you ever said too much?
What did you do then?