The stories we tell

I had written an entirely different blog for this morning. But then I read it and realized it was nearly 100% crap.

Don't thank me, really. It's part of the service.
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So now I'm thinking about the stories we tell about ourselves. Our stories. The things we've been telling ourselves (and others) so long that they feel like they're true.

Lately I've been re-evaluating my stories, checking to see if I have my facts straight.
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Here was the last line of today's original blog: "It’s the mistakes and unplanned events that bring the most joy, the best memories."

That's complete crap. And I don't really believe it.

Mistakes make things more difficult than they need to be. And I'm most irritated when my day doesn't go exactly according to plan.

So the little "Heather likes to wing it" story doesn't hold true.

If that one isn't true, what about the others?
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What are the stories you tell? Why? How do you define your life?

And what if, half way through, you had to re-define it? Could you?

This story is to be continued. . .
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I am listening to: Office noises
I am reading: An e-mail from Nelson
And I am: Re-thinking my stories