The purpose of this page is to provide the poor unfortunate darlings who happen to stumble upon my blog with an explanation of why in the world I have chosen to subject other human beings (the literate ones, at least - or any other literate creature for that matter) to the discombobulated thoughts which, until now, have been confined to the echoing corners of my mind. I’d also like to explain, or attempt to explain the method to my madness, giving heed to the voices in my head which incessantly cry out “what were you thinking?” and having a go at actually responding to them.
There are many reasons why one feels the need to write, to chatter away silently with the fierce strength and stealth speed of the keyboard, birthing thoughts into the world of “black, white and read all over”. Your guess at any particular writer’s motivation is as good as mine. Recognizing the impetus of my own journalistic endeavors has, therefore, been no small challenge. I’ve had to dig deep and chip away at all the rocky reasoning for wanting this bad enough to register a domain name and learn how to blog, let alone wanting it bad enough to add to the chaos that my life as a stay-at-home, work-from-home, make-the-home-happy mommy has become.Imagine me: rapt in the fury of the moment, like a woman in labor struggling to deliver the child of her innermost deliberations. How anyone - much less this blogger - would dare present herself to a virtual audience this way is a question that may actually pass through many non-blogging minds now and then with a cringe. And certainly, it is a valid question if one takes writing as seriously as this beginning blogger. Writing is, indeed, serious business.
It is a frightening endeavor really, no matter what the approach, even if one chooses to dedicate one’s tap-tapping to recording daily nonsense and dissecting the mundane on goings of everyday existence. To write one must think and commit to one’s thoughts, giving them voice. One must question and answer: confront, make judgments, and justify. The writer becomes his or her thoughts, revealing a part of the self to which outsiders otherwise wouldn’t have access… unless, of course, that same writer just happens to be equally “gifted” with the curse of verbal diarrhea! How revolting!
Despite its revealing nature, however, there are some of us who would just rather write than speak; some who are not quite as eloquent as others. Some for whom writing is the preferred method of communication. Some who simply are not endowed with the quickness of thought that it takes to serve up a dish of whiplash while simultaneously choking down the cuisine of quick-witted master word chefs. You know them: cooks like Chef Sarcasm, Chef Derision and Chef Righteousness. Need I say more? Whether a grain of salt would help us swallow the insipid and distasteful dishes which they serve any easier, I couldn’t say for sure. Perhaps we should try a spoonful!
In any case, there are those of us who would rather formulate our thoughts in the cowardly castle of our conscience and lock them in the tower there for ourselves, lowering the bridge over the moat and unbarring the gates only for those we deem hospitable guests, even if not agreeable. And then, of course, there are times when some of us just choose to reserve our thoughts in the midst of discussion so as not to waste the precious breath with which God has blessed us for better use. We hold this to be self-evident: the obstinate are never placated by the bluish hues of our complexion. At least with a blog, we can shut up a nasty commenter any old time we choose to! Block ya! Ha!
All joking aside, it has been my experience that writing is soul encompassing and time consuming, at least it can be when it is well done. Reflection is the prerequisite to that sort of writing, and thinking the mother of reflection. So perhaps, I have chosen to put my pen to paper (or digits to the keys in this case) in an effort to reclaim my once coveted existence as a contemplative woman. In order to write, I must spend quality time with my thoughts, drowning out the clamor that swarms around me and in which I regrettably find myself completely immersed at times. I suppose that this blog, then, is my conscious effort to … to “find myself”… There, I’ve written it and I’ve nearly died doing so! Laugh with me, please. I guess you could say that this is all my way of swimming to the surface for air, while at the same time conscientiously objecting to a superficial life.
So here I find myself, blogging on, carefully seasoning the life that I have chosen to take with a grain or two of salt and serving it up with a side of skepticism.
