todays guest blogger (a little late in the day) is none other than miss mallory mccall. mallory and i were on the same wyldlife team for a about a year, and through that year became really great friends. we went through some tough stuff this year when highland park young life dissolved and she was frequently my sounding board, shoulder to cry on, and friend to laugh with too. her heart for Jesus is open, honest, and full. she is famous around highland park for driving an awesome yellow jeep, in college mallory spent a semester at sea traveling the world (ask her how many countries she has been to), is in love with tim riggins and edward cullen, just rented a rocking new old house, and is one of my best friends here in dallas. but, there is something else about mallory that she would like to share with all of you readers of oh and the world spins madly on...
I proudly confess I am a word nerd. I’d rather write an essay than circle an answer; send an e-mail than make a call; and leave a note instead of waiting for you to return. Growing up, my mom was a first-grade teacher, which means there was an educational lesson woven into the most mundane tasks, and she took that whole “breakfast is the most important meal of the day” thing to the extreme. Her idea of brain food was a bowl full of gibberish.
For five years (Monday through Friday, August through May), I ate a bowl of soggy Alpha-bits Cereal. Before drowning the tiny whole-grain letters in a sea of white water, my brother and I would race to create the “most impressive” word before Dad’s instant coffee sent the microwave into a ringing fit of rage. (We’d giggle and pretend the incisive beeping was the censored shouts of a boiling-hot Mr. Potatohead mug. Yes, seriously, a cussing cup.)
Ultimate loser family, right?! Poor kids missed out on Cartoon Network and Toaster Strudel. Cheap dad drank fake coffee. Learning-obsessed mom should have fed us shredded newspaper instead, huh?
It’s lame, I know. But I ate it up (pun totally intended). The kid with the “most impressive” word won shotgun, which included radio rights. And when you’re 8 years old, those things matter… a lot.
Sigh. That was when I learned the power of using the right words. Think about it—letters, lyrics and even tweets are the confession of an honest expression. Why is it easier to write what we really feel or think versus just saying what’s on our heart and mind? How can so much emotion hide behind a 6-inch pen?