I write because I love words, love stringing them together into sentences, love playing with them to convey information or emotion. I care how things sound, how they feel. If I weren't blogging, I would be writing anyway, truly. I wrote long letters to myself (and ex-boyfriends that I never sent) long before I wrote them to you. I also project those motives on to the other folks in this community of amateur bloggers. When I read a post like this or write one like this, this, or this, I am comforted how much alike we all are. Putting aside all the social commentary on why we increasingly document our lives and share our thoughts in these sorts of mediums (my quick two cents: The scale and reach of our ability to connect is the thing that has changed, not our basic need/desire to share our lives with one another), we speak because we want to be heard, because we want to communicate. Because we want to know if anyone else sees the world the same way we do, if anyone else cringes when they here Delilah's show on the radio with her saccharine voice and crappy song choices (the Peter Cetera/Journey/Jefferson Starship/Gloria Estefan(Don't want to lose you now) song library is not the answer to every song request, Delilah). Because we kind of want to know if we're more than just regular special, we want to know if the world thinks we're extra special, not just witty, exceptionally witty, not just talented, here's a new career in writing talented. Most of us hope to be discovered and/or have a great following. Most of us also know that none of that will make anything better. Recognition is wonderful and make no mistake, I want it, but I know there simply isn't enough adoration and acclaim to fill my empty spaces. It is like any other intense pleasure, its distraction is enjoyable but brief.
So what's my point? Well, as I read the thoughts of another writer searching for an audience, I despaired a little. There are so many choices, so many really good writers, and other fun Internet distractions. I sometimes feel like I'm in a virtual reading bar and I'm wearing the sensible pantsuit* with no cleavage. Timeless? Sure. Interesting? No. Hire me? Yes. Date me? No. Designated Driver? Yes. Coyote Ugly? Absolutely not (dancing on tables is gross-people eat there). I digress. The point is that I despaired because everyone is competing for the same finite resource, readers. And not just any readers, engaged readers who relate to what I am writing, who recommend me to their friends, who extend the conversation further, who are entertained...
Moving on and abruptly changing the subject, I did something yesterday that I rarely do. I asked for help. The first time I sprained my ankle in December, I hobbled slowly along with the dog, jacking up the other side of my body with my awkward gait and generally looking goofy to all passersby. I was paranoid that people thought I was homeless. There are not very many persons of my complexion in the area and those hobbling along the street tend to be homeless. It has happened before. If the way people looked at me yesterday while prone in the doorway of the UPS store waiting for my friend to come help me home was any indication, I need to go shopping soon. Casual on a person of color crouched in a doorway is simply homeless chic in this area. So, I wrote my dog walker and asked if we could add an evening walk this week so I could stay off my feet a bit more. I don't know why it was so hard to ask, it's not like they are doing it for free. I pay for a 30 minute walk. This evening the dog was back at my doorstep less than 15 minutes after she left. And of course, she didn't poop. This guy is freaking lazy but I'm more annoyed with me than I am with him. I should have answered the door and then said something about how soon they were back and made it clear that it does me no good for him to come over and take her out for half the time and not even get her pooped. How the f$%k does that help me? Then we had this weird moment at the door when he seemed like he wanted to come in or something. That whole thing just annoys me...I need a freaking boyfriend. For companionship and loveliness and such, but also to walk the dog and help me when I biff it on the sidewalk outside the UPS store.
*Am I the only one who thinks of Hillary Clinton when I hear the phrase 'sensible pantsuit'?
8 comments:
I agree there are so many choices and every now and then I struggle to keep up with all the blogs I follow. I guess you just have to pick and choose and readlly only stick with the ones you feel connected with.
Funny you should mention Hillary Clinton, because I totally thought of her when you mentioned the phrase 'sensible pantsuit'!
"Casual is simply homeless chic on a person of color." Thats funny. Made me laugh.
Maybe you should find a new dog walker? It's a pretty simple thing you're paying him to do, and it sounds like he's doing a crap job (pardon the pun). I know that volunteers often walk dogs for animal shelters--maybe if you contacted a shelter or a pet store they could put you in touch with someone who could be more of a help to you? I know you are going to think I'm obsessed with this author, but Louise L. Hay's book 'You Can Heal Your Life' has a lot in it about approval, self-approval, and the role it plays in our lives.
I'm really enjoying your blog! I've tagged you on mine in a silly game. Feel free to ignore it if you wish! :)
@tamara; I do think you are at least mildly obsessed with Louise Hay. :) Appreciate the book recommendation and I did browse a few pages through Amazon. Not really my kind of book though it made some thought provoking observations in the few pages I was able to read. Anyone who lays claim to having figured out anything is someone I tend to eye with a healthy wariness. Self-help books are their own kind of cancer to me. I'm more of a Siddhartha, The Alchemist, or Velvet Elvis kind of girl when it comes to spiritual and personal growth books. Perhaps it is the same medicine in a different flavor but I prefer it all the same. I hear you on the dog walker. I haven't decided if I should get a new walker or let this one know they aren't meeting expectations so they have an opportunity to address it. We'll see.
if i wasn't trying like mad to stop spending so much time on my computer then i'd be obsessing over yours. really. i love it.
Lovely post. I *wish* for the kind of talent you have. I stick solely to pictures and as few words as possible b/c I'm just not good at "stringing them together".... at least not in a beautiful, compelling way. I don't think taking 5 years of writing classes could change that either... You are either born with the gift, or you're not. You've got it in Spades, girl.
oh yes... and the title is PERfect!
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