My recent discovery of this site was followed by a fairly lengthy and enjoyable reading session. After browsing other members submissions and cooing appreciatively at the "Advice from the Community", I decided to look into the "Articles on Writing" section. Immediately the title 'But I Digress' written by the Editor caught my eye. I clicked it right away and after reading earnestly about a rabble-rousing monk and a possibly unfortunate incident involving the Khyber Pass, I found my self sitting back and considering my own descent into this rather unwieldy form of story telling and my eventual acceptance of this character flaw.

As with many things, it all started with my parents and when I was a child. Their preferred method of telling a story, generally at meal times, was to drop a hint of the outcome initially and then fall back to events in the Crimean War to fully explain why Mr Royal next door liked to mow his lawn once a week. Ok. I may be exaggerating a bit, but only through such exaggeration can I impart to you how drawn out and irrelevant their meandering monologues seemed to me. At times the stories would appear to be well researched and rehearsed pieces, as they seamlessly passed the story between each other with slights of the tongue such as "no the coat was blue!" or "pass the potatoes please". Other times though, as they bickered about minor points of fact, it seemed that we were witnessing their early touring of the country before they took the refined production to the West End. My sister and I usually had to steer them back on course with growls of frustration. I always dreaded the tell tale signs of a anecdote about to start. The "so and so was saying..." or "that reminds me off..." and the ever so ubiquitous "did you know..." and as a result I developed the habit of eating very fast. Visitors would look on stunned while I wolfed down food and even while chewing the last bite would have everything loaded into the dishwasher, followed by the thumping noise of me running up the stairs to my room.

A recent example was when my father ran into one of our neighbours at the petrol station.

The most logical way of tell this story would have been to recollect the conversation that took place at the petrol station. My mother, however, was on form and started the story a week prior to the meeting at the petrol station and proceeded to explain how the recent landscaping of their garden had led her to decide on what flowers to buy and where to plant them, I'll spare you these vital details and hope you don't lose your way in the story. She carried on explaining how they had both gone in separate cars to the garden center so that they would have sufficient space in both cars to bring back their purchases.

After this brief 5 minute introduction had taken place we got onto the meat of the story as they told of their time spent in the garden center. This was mainly about how they had both taken a trolley each and still had trouble fitting everything on both trolleys, and given my mums bad knee and my fathers recent quadruple by pass they didn't feel like taking a 3rd trolley as they felt it would be too much strain on both of them. There was a slight pause at this point as the phone rang and my father went to answer it. Seeing the opportunity to take over my mother started telling me how a peculiar lady had been acting shady and following them around. She went on to surmise the reason the lady had followed them was that they had taken the last of the Azaleas, or some other horticultural prize I had no care to know about, and was probably going to steal it from their trolley.

When my father returned he once again took to the task and finished up Act II The Garden Center. At this point I found my self head in hands, staring at the ground and grunting in the affirmative whenever they cared to check that I was in fact paying attention. Finally we reached the climax at the petrol station, and after my father told me how he had decided to fill up his car as he had to go to London the next day, the conversation between him and the neighbour was explained. It turns out another neighbour to the left of us was recently involved in a messy divorce after her husband found out he was in fact gay. The husband had run off with his boy-toy to some Eastern European state and left his former wife and daughter behind. This any day of the week would be a fairly juicy piece of gossip but after the marathon story I was left deflated and mind numbed. I went off to watch TV and actually managed to watch Big Brother for ten minutes before I realised my error.

That night at dinner my sister had come over to visit. As soon as I heard the beginning of the story I panicked. Cutting in, I turned to my sister and just said

"Neighbours divorced. He is gay. Ran off to Eastern Europe with boyfriend. She is suing him for all he is worth."

My parents were forthwith in expressing their consternation at my ruining of their finely crafted anecdote, but I felt empowered and took a stand. They tried rather feebly to restart the story but were constantly met with glib comments from me like "Stories over, she knows the end!" before I bemoaned their story telling style.

Coming to their defence my sister reminded me of 'A Catcher in the Rye' and how when visiting one of his old teacher's home, Holden explains why he flunked out of a class called 'Oral Expression'. In the class students have to give a talk on a chosen subject and whenever they start to get off the point the teacher encouraged the whole class to shout 'DIGRESSION'. Holden explains to his former teacher how he always preferred the stories when people started to digress and uses the example of a fellow student, Richard Kinsella, as a case in point. The boy, who is unusually nervous to start with, is meant to be talking about a farm his father recently bought in Vermont. He would start out on topic, but would end up talking about how his mum received a letter from his uncle, and how his uncle had caught polio when he was 42 and wouldn't let anyone come visit him while he was in hospital as he didn't want anyone to see him in a brace. Holden goes on to complain how horrid it is to yell 'DIGRESSION' at someone who is 'all nice and excited' about telling you about something as pleasant as their Uncle.(This takes place in Chapter 24 if you are at all interested)

I'll give it to my sister, she used a great example to try and engender some kind of tolerance within me, but I was having none of it. Sure, in a book its seems sweet and sentimental when its nothing more than an abstract idea and you are safely removed from the painful ordeal. I on the other hand, hours earlier, had to endure a seemingly endless 2 minutes on how my mother and father decided between Lilies of the Valley and Petunias, then once they finally explained the full story I had to somehow reconcile how our herbaceous borders had any bearing on my neighbours sexuality. No. I wasn't having any of it, in fact the lesson I was taking from the whole ordeal would be that against all odds, instead of replicating my parents dragging conversational skills, I had learnt some kind of Zen like brevity that would serve me well whenever I should find the need to explain my self.





Time passed, maybe a year or two. Not a lot changed. My parents were still at it with their uniquely annoying story telling style. Having now accepted the fact I couldn't change them, whenever they started I would take solace in the ideal of brevity I had learned as a result, that and I had found a certain inner peace in counting the peas on my plate as they droned on. I had also recounted the story up until this point to a number of people. In this day and age that included some online friends I chatted to over MSN messenger and in online games I play. One of these online friends was an American girl, known online only as Cass, who was rather fond of my sisters position on the whole subject and thought I should cut my parents some slack.

One night we had been chatting about the silly things we do as a result of our insecurities and how they affect our behaviour in social situations. This reminded me off something I had seen in a Newsagents a few days before. I mentioned to her how I had been thinking about the topic of conversation earlier after witnessing a guy talk to a girl in a 'convenience store' (you get a knack for localisation after talking to Americans on the net). In lieu of the conversation as a whole I felt it necessary to explain certain things that have led me to being insecure.

So I started explaining how as a young child I had been outgoing, hyperactive and generally a little git. On a visit to the city of Bath, I once ran around the city with my family in tow leading them to the local McDonalds by inspecting the litter on the ground, looking for the Golden arches emblazoned on their sides. Once we found it I was less than willing to accept the reason for our success had been the over abundance of McDonalds on our streets, and more to do with my great tracking skills. As we entered I shouted "behold the golden bounty I have led you to!", embarrassing I'm sure for everyone but me.

I carried on explaining how docile family gatherings were staccato-ed by me screaming and running, chasing my aunt's cat around her house with a toy gun (I wasn't allowed to play with toy guns at home so whenever I got my hands on my cousin's ones I made good use of them). After many bloodied noses of sister and cousins, I was universally known through out the extended family as the 'naughty one'.

I finally got around to how at about age 13 my father took me out of our local Comprehensive and sent me to a Grammar school, for many reasons. Some being the poor choices, he felt, they offered for GCSEs, like Combined Sciences instead of Chemistry, Biology and Physics as separate courses. Also he felt the class sizes were too big and the teachers didn't give us enough attention. To top it all off he didn't like the people I was friendly with and felt that it was their influence that was getting his little angel sent out of classes for misbehaving. I freely admit this was solely my own doing, I was a little git remember.

The first day at my new school changed all that. I was faced with entrenched groups of friends. To them it was nothing new. Another term at the same school they had been to for the past 3 years. I felt like the only oddity and even though people tried, I felt out of place for months. Remaining in contact with friends from my old school was also tough. When you see them everyday its a lot easier to remain friends. When you have to go out of your way to meet up with them doubts begin to hang over you, like "why bother them they probably have better things to do or they would have called". I only kept in touch with one friend from my previous school called Stephen and that was really more down to his own efforts than mine. To this day it is constant source of displeasure with my self that when I move away from circles of friends I talk my self out of keeping in contact. I became much more insular and even when I eventually made friends at my new school I was always more reticent. On my next visit to my Aunt's house, my Uncle thought I was sick and her cat slept soundly throughout the day.

I'm telling Cass all this over MSN Messenger, the whole time I'm typing and adding little addendum's to the stories I'm getting a strange feeling, usually the conversation is never as one sided as this but I guess she is sitting back and taking in what I am typing. I pause a little and click away from the chat window so on her window the text "HughJass (my ever so hilarious screen name) is typing" doesn't appear, giving her a chance to say anything pertinent to the discussion. A few seconds pass and I see "Cass is typing". What followed, to the best of my recollection, was

(This is how a MSN conversation appears)

Cass Says:
DIGRESSION

HughJass Says:
What the hell? NO NO NO. This is different, its relevant to my point.

Cass Says:
Right whatevah you say :p

HughJass Says:
Fine i wont go on any further :p

Cass Says:
Nah... go on finish it... just dont digress :p

HughJass Says:
Im not digressing. So shhhh

Cass Says:
Hey i quite liked it so far, but since its you telling the story we have to do it on your terms... so no digressing.

I'll switch back to prose now to spare you any net speak, but to give you clear idea of how things went, everything henceforth got the teasing reply "DIGRESSION hehe :P" with a stern "shut it" reply from me.


So what happened in the Newsagents? Err well I should first explain, "shut it", across the street from where I worked there is a un-franchised burger joint, they make the best burgers I've ever eaten. My favourite is a Double Cheese, Bacon, Egg, Onions and 1/4 pounder, my arteries can only manage one every 3 months, though I pushed it and try and get one in twice a month. Next to the burger place is a newsagents, inside of which works one of the most heavenly creatures you could imagine. Long brown hair, deep brown eyes, pert chest, perfect behind and all atop a pair of lithe legs. To clinch the deal, she is unbelievably sweet. She smiles warmly instead of pouting like a spoilt brat. When you go into the shop there is no dutiful "Hello", you get a "Hi!" worthy of a best friend. Everyday to break up the monotony of my job I took smoke breaks outside. To break up the monotony of these breaks I sometimes headed over the road to get a can of pop or some munchies. I got that "Hi!" everyday and all I could manage in response was an awkward smile and a lack lustre "hi" back.

The burger place wasn't lacking in characters either, it was run by a Greek family, one dad and a host of brothers. The one that's important here is the youngest. He wasn't what you would call classically handsome and while we are at it, though he didn't lack a certain type of charm, he was 100 times removed from suave. He always struck me as over eager. You would be waiting for your food to be made, glancing through a tabloid they left on the counter for customers and he would be looking over the counter adding an even more misinformed opinion to and already dire article in the Daily Mail while you ummed and ahhed politely. You couldn't help but like him but in a wholly condescending manner.


This one day I walk into the Newsagents and he is there talking to the girl. She pauses to say "Hi!" to me but then carries on talking to him. I get within earshot of them and listen in.

"So you been busy?" the girl asks.

"Oh yeah. Man really busy." he replies, "Lets see I gotta work Monday lunch to dinner, Tuesday lunch to dinner, I never get to go out during the week, Wednesday..."

As I fingered my way through the biscuit selection wondering if I should treat my colleagues to some Gari Baldis, I'm starting to wince at his line of attack. When I walked in, seeing them talking, I was inwardly sympathetic to his chances, having never worked up the nerve to even chat to her I wasn't going to begrudge someone actually willing to try. But the way he was carrying on, over eager as always, my mind started screaming "No No. Don't talk incessantly about yourself! Look I even read it in that silly agony aunt section of the Daily Mail on your counter and I know you were reading it with me. ASK HER about herself".

"... but Saturday I have off which is good cos I really wanna go see Batman Begins" He finished up.

"Oh yeah that comes out this week eh? I really liked the Batman Tim Burton did with Michael Keaton, didn't like the one with Arnie though" She replied, my internal critic assuming she was feigning interest.

"Haha the governator! He's the governor of Florida or something... I bet he becomes the President like that other actor... Ford, I think Harrison Ford... he was in Star Wars. President Ford."

My mind sighs and thinks "President Ford was Gerald Ford not Harrison Ford. It was Ronald Reagan who was the actor President, and Arnie is governor of California and he wasn't born in America so he cannot become President". I gave up hope for the guy and went and paid for my can of coke and biscuits.

After paying, as I'm walking out I catch the end of the conversation.

"So you wanna come see it on Saturday?" he asked nervously.

"Sure lemme give you my number" she replied sweetly.

 "MOTHERF*(£$R" my mind.

Cass Says:
Hahaha BURN!

HughJass Says:
Yeah I know :P
I was dumbfounded. I'm sure i nearly said it out aloud :p
But I was thinking about it while i had a smoke before going back into work.

Cass Says:
Yeah and?

HughJass Says:
Well on the most simplistic level our insecurities makes us split people into 3 groups. The People we aspire to be or admire. Ourselves in bondage of our insecurities. And people we look down on.

I know the latter seems harsh and intolerant but we all do it to some degree and just like that guy showed me, i do it all the time.

The worst part is... When i say "Ourselves in bondage of our insecurities" what I really mean is "Ourselves in bondage of our vanity". It is all about self idolotry.

Cass Says:
Self Idolotry... Hmm?

HughJass Says:
I coined that after my lil contemplation session... was very proud :p
What I mean is all the little things we do to prevent ourselves trying or doing what we want to do or being who we want to become are born from our vanity.

"The deity that is my self won't try because failure would denigrate me"

"The deity that is my self won't call a friend I haven't spoken to for ages as rejection would mean i'm unloved"

HughJass Says:
Ok the last one was a lil unwieldy but you get the point?

Cass Says:
:p
Yeah i like

HughJass Says:
And even worse we use our vanity to look down on others... i used my entire "insecurity" arsenal painting a picture of him in my mind about what he was like, how stupid he was, who he could hope to date etc... i had that picture and had him pegged on some dysfunctional internal scale of his self worth compared to mine...
 jealous part of me wishes i coulda got that date... but at that moment he was the better man... he put himself out there ... and he deserves it :p

Cass Says:
Thats was still one hell of a digression :p

HughJass Says:
Gah. Screw you im going to bed.

Cass Says:
NN sweetie... go straight to bed.. if you digress it could be hours before you get to sleep :p

HughJass Says:
Shut the hell up :p

At this point I turned off my computer got into bed and groaned inwardly as I realised I really had been on one hell of a digression there. Most people only confront the fact they are becoming their parents when they scold their offspring but I seem to be already succumbing to the trap

There are numerous epilogues or morals to that unwieldy chain of anecdotes above, and if I wasn't embracing my entirely digressive nature I would probably spare you them.

The last anecdote, the moral is fairly clear cut. I'll just stress the point once more. Out of the 3 people involved - me, the guy and the girl - 2 people went somewhere in their lives, however brief the journey may have been. The 3rd person, me,  fattened his arteries, furthered an addiction to cigarettes and gained 2 more for Coke and Garibaldi biscuits.

The realisation that I'm driven by my vanity hasn't helped me overcome a great deal of little problems I make for my self either. I'm still out of contact with university friends and even my old school friend Stephen, my current excuse is "he has his own family now, our lives are totally different" all the while he lives about 5 miles away from me. I even fell out of contact with Cass from this story and a whole host of other good friends I had online.

It isn't all bleak though. On the back of this I decided to leave the job I didn't enjoy and took up English Language and Literature A-Levels along with Economics . Hopefully, if they go well I will go back to uni to study something I enjoy instead of something that only makes more employable.

One thing I don't for-see changing though is my boredom at my parents stories, hopefully mine wasn't as bad as one of theirs.