Extraordinary

I met a guy on a bus, had delightful conversation and parted ways.
The next week I saw him slack lining in a park alone, so I went over and talked to him.
And he invited to to a Thanksgiving day dinner with some of his friends.
So, without knowing anything more I went, I brought a chocolate cake on a gold cake stand and wore a floral skirt.
While at the party I made it a secret goal to memorize everyone's name, so for the entire night I could join in the conversation and feel like I knew everyone.

We sat around the table for hours. And there were times where I would dominate the conversation, everyone seemed to really except me and it was so crazy that in a room full of strangers I found myself feeling so welcome.

At the end of the night the fellow who invited me walked me to the door, he, like myself, thinks he a writer.
He told me how crazy it was that I had agreed to come without knowing anyone, and come alone.
And then he said "If you live a life that is extraordinary you are obligated to write about it"
With a tone in his voice of 'you are amazing, don't loose it.'

We stayed in contact for a bit, but shortly after the party he got married and that was the end of our short lived friendship.

But time to time I still click over to his blog where he writes poetry, and posts really weird pictures, with only 3 followers, one being his wife. And I think about how great he is documenting his life, feeling like he has something unique to share.

I'd like to think that's what I'm doing too. Filling notebooks with ideas, writing bits of myself on this blog, attempting poetry now and again

My life is extraordinary, and so, I am obligated to write about it.
I love that.

So here is to writing, miss-spelled and crazy, leaving a small bit of a legacy, whatever that in tells.