It is 6pm on a lazy, rainy Saturday in November -- and this is going to be one of those stream of consciousness posts. You have been warned.
I have missed out on several blogging opportunities this year. I did not blog about the upcoming elections, or my recent trip to Greece, or about sunny San Diego or my friend's newborn kid or another friend's wedding. For that matter, I did not even blog about my own wedding or honeymoon! And now, it is too late. The window of opportunity has passed, along with the window of enthusiasm. Instead, here I am, with itching fingertips, yet no stories left to tell. But I can't turn away, the desire to talk, to say something -- is too great. My heart is filled with that strange emotion I can never find a name for, but which comes over me every once in a while. You know what I mean -- the sort of feeling that engulfs you when you are sitting around a campfire in the middle of the night. Or in a rocking chair by the window on a rainy evening. You want to speak so badly, speak about serious things -- not silly stuff -- but stuff you rarely out loud. In fact, things you just don't know how to say out loud, you feel them inside of yourself, but you lack the language to articulate them.
It has been a strange week, I have seen myself reflected in different people's eyes, and am left wondering who I am. Who I am, who I am pretending to be, and who I want to be.
And just as I write this, my husband comes scurrying in like an excited school boy. He wants to show me what he just made - a wood threading tool. Except the demo doesn't work quite so well, and he goes back to his woodshop, still excited but a little subdued.
And I'm sure there is a great moral lesson I can draw from all this, but I have no idea what it could be.
I have missed out on several blogging opportunities this year. I did not blog about the upcoming elections, or my recent trip to Greece, or about sunny San Diego or my friend's newborn kid or another friend's wedding. For that matter, I did not even blog about my own wedding or honeymoon! And now, it is too late. The window of opportunity has passed, along with the window of enthusiasm. Instead, here I am, with itching fingertips, yet no stories left to tell. But I can't turn away, the desire to talk, to say something -- is too great. My heart is filled with that strange emotion I can never find a name for, but which comes over me every once in a while. You know what I mean -- the sort of feeling that engulfs you when you are sitting around a campfire in the middle of the night. Or in a rocking chair by the window on a rainy evening. You want to speak so badly, speak about serious things -- not silly stuff -- but stuff you rarely out loud. In fact, things you just don't know how to say out loud, you feel them inside of yourself, but you lack the language to articulate them.
It has been a strange week, I have seen myself reflected in different people's eyes, and am left wondering who I am. Who I am, who I am pretending to be, and who I want to be.
And just as I write this, my husband comes scurrying in like an excited school boy. He wants to show me what he just made - a wood threading tool. Except the demo doesn't work quite so well, and he goes back to his woodshop, still excited but a little subdued.
And I'm sure there is a great moral lesson I can draw from all this, but I have no idea what it could be.
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