In case you are wondering what is up with the incessant blogging, -or even if you do not care,- here’s my explanation.
Writing is how I process things. I can not think without a pencil or laptop at the ready. If the kids need help with their homework, my first reaction is to grab a pencil….and write as I explain, not so much for them, but for me.
I am simply wired this way-I need to write to understand….and right now I am far from understanding anything, so I write.
Journal first, run/walk/bike, make lists for the day, then the blog, *actual work*, an email or two, back to work, blog, work…..work, work…
As I try to envision my next step, this process turns into madness, frantic writing…coupled with devouring books like a fiend.
Yesterday, I took a break downtown on the steps of the Browns Stadium. The side facing Lake Erie is generally completely peaceful -when there isn’t a game of course. Had a beautiful view, perfect silence, a book, and an apple for lunch. Read a good portion of a book that is leaving me with more questions than answers, and that is okay. The discontent is palatable. Wanderlust is gripping me and threatening to toss me overboard, this craving for upheaval needs to be controlled. My book, a novel even, is now peppered with notes, yes I write in my books, with pencil- love the pencil.
Plodding along day by day is harder for me than the alternative (jumping into the unknown)…. and the discipline it takes to stay put is making me crazier than usual. So, I blog. I write out my psychoanalysis for the world to see. I “consult” with writer/blogger friends that have come out of the woodwork to explain things..in words arranged in well-formed sentences, interjected with funny, poignant stories…written to the world at large (and shared in our little bloggy groups.)
Believe it or not, the prompt for this scrawling post is in part, “I get by with a little help from my friends” sure, I have flesh and blood friends, people I see and care about, but when thinking of this phrase, I didn’t immediately think of those people….instead, I know all the perfectly placed “satellites of my soul” have helped me along like no one else could. There are a select few who have crossed over, read my perplexing inner thoughts and still don’t mind going out every now and then, but otherwise, these two worlds are as separate as can be..
that probably says something about me..
…..and it is probably not good, and so this trompe l’oeil keeps writing her way out of the invisible hole.
~*~*~*~*~Written for this week’s BFF topics~*~*~*~*~*~
#130, One Day at a Time and #131, I Get by with a Little Help from My Friends.