everyone has a story, that’s one of the firmest tenets in the dogma of jodi. i know everyone has a story. i like to hear these stories. that’s why i love this web journaling phenom. you get to hear so many stories, some of them good and some of them not so good. hell, if it’s well executed enough, telling me what you had for lunch can be incredibly fascinating. the excruiatingly normal minutiae of daily life can be entertaining beyond belief.
the stories, that’s what i live for. that’s what lead me to my first career choice of newspaper reporter. so many stories, so little time. some of the stories broke my heart and eventually broke my spirit. corporate whoredom was much easier, believe it or not, on my spirit. learning people’s stories is a lot easier when you are doing it out of pure interest (prurient or not) and not to pay your goddamn student loans.
what breaks my fucking heart and incites me to foaming rage are people with amazing stories that don’t take the time or have the notion to tell their story in a coherent manner. i hate stumbling on these stories that are filled with precious moment pap and new age crap. tell your damn story, you have an amazing story. you have the potential to be one of the most intersting people we stumble upon in the world of the web. but tell us the blood, sweat, the shit and tears that’s what we want to know. don’t hint at your story. don’t tease us with the tragedies that have made you stronger, just spill it already.
all this potential just infuriates me.
it’s fine and i understand that not everyone can’t tell their story, not everyone wants to tell their story. that’s dandy, keep it to yourself– it’s your choice. but if you are gonna fucking tease me then deliver. because nobody wants to read precious moments bullshit, we want to hear what’s reduced you to such a cliche spewing heap of flesh.
and the thing is you don’t have to be the wizard of words. you don’t have to build a plot, infuse your story with significance or foreshadowing. just tell it like it is and i’ll hang on your every word.
such unfulfilled potential leaves me impotent with rage. making me incohrent.
Well…what do you want to know?
Just what are you trying to say?
What rankles the living motherflying fuck out of ME, Jodi, is when people who have these “journals” or “blogs” (or “sites”, as I prefer) write something insipid such as, “I have nothing to say.”
Nothing to say? Unbelievable. The only people who have nothing to say are those who are no longer among the breathing. And even that’s questionable.
Please.
(P.S. I’ve been “jodiverse” for years now. How strange to stumble upon your site and see you use the term.)
wow, i feel like i’ve infringed on your copyright. so does it piss you off when people spell your name jodie, jody or jodee? because whenever i get anything with that name on it i just claim it’s not for me.
YES. It pisses me off. What I hate just as much is when a “Jodi” feels she has to add a little spin of her own to the name and spell it like “Jhodi” or “Jeaudie” or some other bastardized permutation. Feh to all of ’em! Feh!
I was gonna say something, but I realized I was no longer breathing. Excuse me while I attempt to drive to the emergency room.