Writing

I have so many ideas and stories floating around in my head that I feel stuck sometimes. I could blog something every single day, but there's so much to say that sometimes I can't even begin! I start writing about one thing and another five try to sneak in. The blog I wrote about my cell phone had an entirely different slant in the beginning. I wrote the last sentence, and realized it should be the first sentence. "Oh no, really? Crap, now I have to rewrite this whole thing!" I might add I was writing on my big yellow pad, which I prefer to just plunking things out on the keyboard like I am now. So yeah, I had to edit it by hand. Lots of scribbling, numbers on paragraphs, and then I began again. It took most of that Sat afternoon to get the story where I wanted it to go. Even though the place we ended up wasn't what I was aiming for.

My last blog, "Settin' Step" was written in 15 minutes on a big white pad that I have at work. I was finishing up some work stuff during the kids nap time, when I just suddenly grabbed the big yellow pad I keep on my desk, sat down with a few kids who were coloring quietly and wrote it out. There were no scribbles, and not much to edit when I put it on here. I looked over at Britt, my assistant of the day, and said "Look, a blog! Sometimes it amazes me when the words just spring forth like that." Tucked it in my pocket to post later and moved on with our afternoon.

I'm not complaining, I welcome the rush of thoughts, ideas, dreams, and what-nots floating around in my head. I didn't realize how much I missed them. For years I was too caught up in someone else's life and issues that I didn't even notice the silence. That lesson was learned long ago, but still the stories were quiet, buried under a pile of hurt and loss. There are parts of my life I choose to gloss over because the memories are just too painful. I'd love to say I've forgotten them, but that isn't the case. In doing so I protected myself, but shut off the most important part of me.

Once I started reconnecting with family and friends from long ago on Facebook last winter the memories refused to be shut away any longer, and the stories came flooding back. It certainly wasn't the object of joining, and it's an odd form of therapy, but it worked. So now I just have to learn how to straighten the jumble out that's in my head, and put it to words on "paper". Sounds easy enough, but I'm doubting it's going to be!