Wednesday, November 12, 2003
Question...
I stop by here pretty much everyday to write something. I'll admit part of it is due to obligation. I know that I have several regular readers, all wonderfully loyal, and sometimes I think that if I don't have at least a little entry everyday - if not several - then I'm letting them, letting you down. For whatever reason you've decided that my writing is entertaining enough to keep coming back.
For that, I thank you. From both the heart of my bottom and the bottom of my heart.
If on one level it's an obligation, it is one I embrace whole-heartedly. I'm finding a joy in writing that I haven't had for a very long time. Whenever I'm happy or sad or pissed (or all three at once, as happens occasionally), I know I can find a way to write about my days or my nights that won't seem too self-indulgent. And it makes me feel happier or better or less angry. Writing here, for myself, for you, has made me a better writer. It started with the writing group that FFDWG(FKaSarah) invited me to over a year and half ago and has continued with time buried in books, causing that long dormant writer in me to spring forth.
(For the first time ever I feel that I can call myself a writer and not seem pretentious. It feels honest. It feels right.)
That long dormant writer isn't quite Athena, fully formed, though she does originate from the forehead area. And the heart area. Maybe she's Athena's younger sister, Skipper, still developing her powers but full of wonder at and love for everyone.
Especially y'all. She just adores you guys. She, and I, thank you for helping her to break out of her long self-imposed imprisonment. We're both discovering that life is so much more enjoyable when she's out and about in the world.
She, and I, also thank CuteNerdBoy. (Yep, back to him. You, in the corner - stop rolling your eyes. You're gonna sprain an eyeball that way.) From the very beginning he's been quite encouraging. That encouragement has opened my eyes. As a result I find that a lot of the time I want to write about him. Since we had a BookCrossing meeting tonight, this entry is no exception.
But then I wonder, what's going through your minds? In the end I have to write for myself, of course, but like other online journallers and 'bloggers, there is always the audience to consider.
(I'm certainly not the first person to ponder this question. I'm definitely not going to be the last one.)
Do you tire of the same cast of characters, of CuteNerdBoy popping up so often? And do y'all really want to read the rundown of another evening of coffee and talking about books, the stupid twinges creeping over my shoulder again, to be soundly smacked back? About dinner and the usual book/movie/music talks deepening into conversations about family and moral dilemmas and the like? Descriptions of hugs and the now all-too-familiar conflict in my heart, wanting more from him but knowing that there's nothing else I can do, short of doing something that might appear to disrepect his own feelings, which I certainly don't want to do?
We shared more of ourselves in our talks tonight. We opened ourselves up just a bit more. I'm always so afraid of delving into painful subjects. Not for myself so much, because I'm positive that anything I tell him will be treated with the utmost compassion and respect.
I'm reluctant to question him. It's not because I don't want to know. I do. I want to know anything and everything he feels comfortable telling me. Details will never be shared with others, of course, because it's no one else's business. I value his friendship and his confidence in my friendship.
My hesitance to ask him questions stems from 1) a terror of seeming to pry out of purient curiosity and 2) a reluctance to dredge up memories that would cause him pain. Still, isn't that something that develops in true friendships? Sharing of joy and pain in equal measures in order to lighten the load? To know that, whatever happens, there's at least another person (or two or three or ten) that is ready to pitch in and help out?
I like to think so. Apparently so does CuteNerdBoy. As we parted from our good-night hug (again so hard for me to disengage from his arms), he smiled at me, said "Good talk tonight," and gave me another of his patented slightly-lingering peck-kisses.
(My pithy response? "Me too." Don't think I didn't mentally kick myself for that one. My brain picks the most inopportune times to stop working.)
I did it again. Another description of another evening. At this point is it exhausting to read? Is it boring? Are y'all yelling at the monitor that single-celled life forms at the bottom of the Black Sea are aware of my feelings for CuteNerdBoy and it's time to find another damn subject already?
At what point does enough become more than enough?
I guess that's the question I come up against when writing here.
Ultimately this 'blog is for me. Pure and simple. But it's also for you. For all of you currently reading as each post magically appears. For all of you who may stumble upon my words in the future.
I don't think I've lost any of my regular readers due to my ramblings involving the same person over and over and over. Not that I know of. There may not be many of you, but you guys (youse guys?) have been fantastically supportive in your e-mails. For better or worse, that makes me want to write even more.
Believe it or not, I'm not looking for reassurance or answers. Or anything, really. I don't even know where I'm going with this post tonight. Just writing to write, taking an incredibly public stroll through my thoughts, as usual, though perhaps more randomly than is my habit (which is saying something, since I tend to be pretty damned random). Skipping word stones across the surface of my mind, wondering which ones will sink in. Reveling in the act of putting fingertips to keyboard knowing that the jumble of letters that appears on the screen almost make sense. And all that other writerly stuff.
Thanks for bearing with me. Y'all just soundly and roundly rock.
For that, I thank you. From both the heart of my bottom and the bottom of my heart.
If on one level it's an obligation, it is one I embrace whole-heartedly. I'm finding a joy in writing that I haven't had for a very long time. Whenever I'm happy or sad or pissed (or all three at once, as happens occasionally), I know I can find a way to write about my days or my nights that won't seem too self-indulgent. And it makes me feel happier or better or less angry. Writing here, for myself, for you, has made me a better writer. It started with the writing group that FFDWG(FKaSarah) invited me to over a year and half ago and has continued with time buried in books, causing that long dormant writer in me to spring forth.
(For the first time ever I feel that I can call myself a writer and not seem pretentious. It feels honest. It feels right.)
That long dormant writer isn't quite Athena, fully formed, though she does originate from the forehead area. And the heart area. Maybe she's Athena's younger sister, Skipper, still developing her powers but full of wonder at and love for everyone.
Especially y'all. She just adores you guys. She, and I, thank you for helping her to break out of her long self-imposed imprisonment. We're both discovering that life is so much more enjoyable when she's out and about in the world.
She, and I, also thank CuteNerdBoy. (Yep, back to him. You, in the corner - stop rolling your eyes. You're gonna sprain an eyeball that way.) From the very beginning he's been quite encouraging. That encouragement has opened my eyes. As a result I find that a lot of the time I want to write about him. Since we had a BookCrossing meeting tonight, this entry is no exception.
But then I wonder, what's going through your minds? In the end I have to write for myself, of course, but like other online journallers and 'bloggers, there is always the audience to consider.
(I'm certainly not the first person to ponder this question. I'm definitely not going to be the last one.)
Do you tire of the same cast of characters, of CuteNerdBoy popping up so often? And do y'all really want to read the rundown of another evening of coffee and talking about books, the stupid twinges creeping over my shoulder again, to be soundly smacked back? About dinner and the usual book/movie/music talks deepening into conversations about family and moral dilemmas and the like? Descriptions of hugs and the now all-too-familiar conflict in my heart, wanting more from him but knowing that there's nothing else I can do, short of doing something that might appear to disrepect his own feelings, which I certainly don't want to do?
We shared more of ourselves in our talks tonight. We opened ourselves up just a bit more. I'm always so afraid of delving into painful subjects. Not for myself so much, because I'm positive that anything I tell him will be treated with the utmost compassion and respect.
I'm reluctant to question him. It's not because I don't want to know. I do. I want to know anything and everything he feels comfortable telling me. Details will never be shared with others, of course, because it's no one else's business. I value his friendship and his confidence in my friendship.
My hesitance to ask him questions stems from 1) a terror of seeming to pry out of purient curiosity and 2) a reluctance to dredge up memories that would cause him pain. Still, isn't that something that develops in true friendships? Sharing of joy and pain in equal measures in order to lighten the load? To know that, whatever happens, there's at least another person (or two or three or ten) that is ready to pitch in and help out?
I like to think so. Apparently so does CuteNerdBoy. As we parted from our good-night hug (again so hard for me to disengage from his arms), he smiled at me, said "Good talk tonight," and gave me another of his patented slightly-lingering peck-kisses.
(My pithy response? "Me too." Don't think I didn't mentally kick myself for that one. My brain picks the most inopportune times to stop working.)
I did it again. Another description of another evening. At this point is it exhausting to read? Is it boring? Are y'all yelling at the monitor that single-celled life forms at the bottom of the Black Sea are aware of my feelings for CuteNerdBoy and it's time to find another damn subject already?
At what point does enough become more than enough?
I guess that's the question I come up against when writing here.
Ultimately this 'blog is for me. Pure and simple. But it's also for you. For all of you currently reading as each post magically appears. For all of you who may stumble upon my words in the future.
I don't think I've lost any of my regular readers due to my ramblings involving the same person over and over and over. Not that I know of. There may not be many of you, but you guys (youse guys?) have been fantastically supportive in your e-mails. For better or worse, that makes me want to write even more.
Believe it or not, I'm not looking for reassurance or answers. Or anything, really. I don't even know where I'm going with this post tonight. Just writing to write, taking an incredibly public stroll through my thoughts, as usual, though perhaps more randomly than is my habit (which is saying something, since I tend to be pretty damned random). Skipping word stones across the surface of my mind, wondering which ones will sink in. Reveling in the act of putting fingertips to keyboard knowing that the jumble of letters that appears on the screen almost make sense. And all that other writerly stuff.
Thanks for bearing with me. Y'all just soundly and roundly rock.
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