I get excited about things. Do you?
I know there are some of you out there who not only get excited about things, you get ecstatic, jazzed, and pumped up. You know, like how I do, like in the way that can be annoying to many people.
I realize, of course, that my form of enthusiasm can be grating on people’s nerves sometimes. But it’s just who I am. I stopped being embarrassed about that specific aspect of my personality long ago when I looked around and saw that I had drawn people to me who not only tolerate that part of me, but celebrate it. Even in high school I found solace in the halls of the performing arts school I attended because it was filled with kids who were just like me. Kids who jumped up and down and exclaimed, “Kisses” when running into a friend they hadn’t seen since, oh, lunch.
Once when I was in high school I said to my mom, “I love you”. She said, “So? You say that to everybody.” Now that might sound a bit harsh, but my mom was opening my eyes to an important lesson.
How can anything be special if everything is special?
And I’ve noticed there are times my exuberant nature and language sets me up for failure. There are times when I’ve used up all my words, all my exclamation points. How do I possibly communicate to someone how deeply and genuinely I feel or think about something if my effusive language has worn out its welcome? How many emoticons must I attach to a text or email to make absolutely certain I communicate that something is really, really awesome, extra special awesome, not just regular everyday awesome?
Let me reiterate, the intensity of my joy and the praise I bestow on anyone or anything is always genuine. I’m a cheerleader in that way. I AM that nerdy, happy, you-can-do-it, chick who encourages anyone with a dream. I stomp on my own dreams much faster than I’d ever consider stepping on another’s. But sometimes I feel lost for expression. I feel like there’s no way someone will believe the truth in my heart because the words are so, well, not different.
I’ve thought about this predicament before. The catalyst this time was when I was telling someone about my friend’s new caramel popcorn line. It went something like this, “THIS popcorn is amazing. I mean, really, really, UH-MAZING. I know you think you’ve had good caramel corn. You have not. This shit is caramel crack. Truly unique”.
A simple “It’s really good. I encourage you to try it” would have probably sufficed.
So, in the interest of trying on a new hat…
My friend’s company is The Art of Caramel. I encourage you to try it. It’s really good…
Like super duper — it’ll make you jump up and slap your mamma — good. Swear. Especially the Orange Cognac Kiss. Yummers. Makes a fabulous gift, too.
(Ok, ok, I’m trying to stop. Give me a break.)