It’s been a while since I’ve written anything for a few reasons.
First, the holidays happened. I’m at the computer all day at work, and I get in this sort of computer mode. Computers as an entity, and sitting at the computer, start to seem like a normal things. During the holidays, however, I have this welcome relief from the not-so-natural light of the computer screen and the impulse to check (and write) emails all day to people. I actually pick up the phone and call people, I spend time making meals, taking walks, and doing other things that normal non-computer-addicted people do.
Second, I heard this thing on NPR or saw something on the internet that said that of the bazillion blogs there are out there in the cyber universe, the huge majority are read only by the blogger and their mother. Like 70 or 80% - some crazy high number. That was really depressing to me. Especially since I was in Seattle when I heard this visiting my mother and she had just made some vague reference to something I had written on this blog. And I started thinking that, indeed, she might be the only person (well, in all fairness, along with Brian) who might read this on a regular basis over time.
Third, I started having this push and pull with feeling obligated to write something on my blog. Like someone would be out there grading me if I didn’t. This sense of obligation didn’t exist until my father planted this idea in my mind that he didn’t really think I was going to follow through with writing in my blog for very long. And then, writing something now and again almost became part of proving him wrong. He’s my father, after all, and while I’m pretty good at not having power struggles with him any more, I’m not a saint.
He backtracked after suggesting he didn’t think I could keep it up, explaining that he thought he’d get bored after a while, if *he* had started a blog and would have trouble maintaining it. But he knows me pretty well, and probably understands what it’s really like for me. I get really intensely excited by things, and for a while this passion and excitement totally consumes my world. This could be a project, or an idea, a place, a thing, or a person. Really, if I started to list the things that have presented themselves to me as the thing at the time (and that I truly believed were the thing), the list would be long. They are all consuming and alluring – like a passionate affair – for just a brief moment in time. And then are suddenly gone.
The point is, my father unknowingly planted this seed of doubt in me. What if my blog is another one of those things? And what if I make all sorts of promises to myself and others that I then don’t follow through with? The truth of the matter is, this is a complete possibility. And I have to just be up front with anyone who is reading this about that. My blog could potentially be a passing phase.
You see, I had good reasons to not write anything for awhile.
But tonight, at 2:31 AM in the morning, I couldn’t be more grateful than to have somewhere to focus my thoughts and energy. I woke up from this dream about walking on the beach to find my foot itching like crazy from all the food I’ve been eating that I shouldn’t have been eating (food allergies make my skin itch), and to find myself wondering what purpose my life really has. This is not a good thing to be thinking in the middle of the night. It’s a big question. And frankly, every time I start this line of reasoning in the middle of the night, it means I’ll be awake for a long time. Basically until I have walked myself in circles long enough that I finally get out pen and paper, write some things down, just praying this gives me some sense of satisfaction of something completed enough so that I can then sleep again. I always resort to pen and paper. I am as expert a list maker as they come. But I thought I’d try something new this time and write my thoughts out on my computer.
The thing is, I DO wonder this. This question of: what is the meaning of my life, that is. Not that I wonder IF my life has meaning. But what should I really be doing with my time? Do I have the right job for me? What will my next job be? Do I take good enough care of my friends and family? Am I taking risks? Am I putting myself out there to meet the right people that will help sustain my intellectual and emotional and spiritual and playful sides over time? Am I pursuing things in my free time that I really love and that really make sense to me? Or am I doing things just, because I’ve done them in the past, and because they’re easy? You can see why I can’t go back to sleep easily.
The thing about writing is, once something is on paper, I can really see the thoughts that torture me. I can look at them. Stare at them. And usually, just that does the trick for me. All of the sudden, they’re just that: thoughts that torture me. If I separate them out, I can start to decide which ones to pay attention to. And I also find that so many of these thoughts and questions that roll around in my head sometimes for weeks, months, or even years, I have simple and straightforward answers to if I’m just willing to bring them to the forefront.
I could tell you for instance, that yes, I will always need breaks from the computer in my life. I will never be someone who writes a daily or weekly blog consistently. Thinking of writing as homework or thinking of being on a schedule just won’t ever work for me.
And does it matter if my mother and Brian are the only ones who read this on a regular basis? No, it doesn’t. I’m happy to share my thoughts and writing with them, and whoever else happens along here and there to read something. I don’t write for an audience. I would be fine writing just for myself, frankly. The thought that even one other person can get something out of witnessing my thought process – even if it’s just to know me better, because they love me – is something that I’m grateful for. I don’t take their interest for granted.
Through writing I can also identify the real questions I have. Like – is having a blog a phase for me? Good question. I guess I’ll wait and see.
And the whole meaning of life merry-go-round? Of course I know there’s no quick, simple, easy answer to that question. Asking these questions is enough. I hope I am someone who always wakes up in the middle of the night periodically to check in on my life. Even if it means I’m tired and cranky at work the next day. I want to make sure that what I’m doing makes sense to me. I want to ask myself real questions. It’s nice to have the time and space to think big like this as I form and re-form my life with each day, each decision I make, and each dream I dream.
First, the holidays happened. I’m at the computer all day at work, and I get in this sort of computer mode. Computers as an entity, and sitting at the computer, start to seem like a normal things. During the holidays, however, I have this welcome relief from the not-so-natural light of the computer screen and the impulse to check (and write) emails all day to people. I actually pick up the phone and call people, I spend time making meals, taking walks, and doing other things that normal non-computer-addicted people do.
Second, I heard this thing on NPR or saw something on the internet that said that of the bazillion blogs there are out there in the cyber universe, the huge majority are read only by the blogger and their mother. Like 70 or 80% - some crazy high number. That was really depressing to me. Especially since I was in Seattle when I heard this visiting my mother and she had just made some vague reference to something I had written on this blog. And I started thinking that, indeed, she might be the only person (well, in all fairness, along with Brian) who might read this on a regular basis over time.
Third, I started having this push and pull with feeling obligated to write something on my blog. Like someone would be out there grading me if I didn’t. This sense of obligation didn’t exist until my father planted this idea in my mind that he didn’t really think I was going to follow through with writing in my blog for very long. And then, writing something now and again almost became part of proving him wrong. He’s my father, after all, and while I’m pretty good at not having power struggles with him any more, I’m not a saint.
He backtracked after suggesting he didn’t think I could keep it up, explaining that he thought he’d get bored after a while, if *he* had started a blog and would have trouble maintaining it. But he knows me pretty well, and probably understands what it’s really like for me. I get really intensely excited by things, and for a while this passion and excitement totally consumes my world. This could be a project, or an idea, a place, a thing, or a person. Really, if I started to list the things that have presented themselves to me as the thing at the time (and that I truly believed were the thing), the list would be long. They are all consuming and alluring – like a passionate affair – for just a brief moment in time. And then are suddenly gone.
The point is, my father unknowingly planted this seed of doubt in me. What if my blog is another one of those things? And what if I make all sorts of promises to myself and others that I then don’t follow through with? The truth of the matter is, this is a complete possibility. And I have to just be up front with anyone who is reading this about that. My blog could potentially be a passing phase.
You see, I had good reasons to not write anything for awhile.
But tonight, at 2:31 AM in the morning, I couldn’t be more grateful than to have somewhere to focus my thoughts and energy. I woke up from this dream about walking on the beach to find my foot itching like crazy from all the food I’ve been eating that I shouldn’t have been eating (food allergies make my skin itch), and to find myself wondering what purpose my life really has. This is not a good thing to be thinking in the middle of the night. It’s a big question. And frankly, every time I start this line of reasoning in the middle of the night, it means I’ll be awake for a long time. Basically until I have walked myself in circles long enough that I finally get out pen and paper, write some things down, just praying this gives me some sense of satisfaction of something completed enough so that I can then sleep again. I always resort to pen and paper. I am as expert a list maker as they come. But I thought I’d try something new this time and write my thoughts out on my computer.
The thing is, I DO wonder this. This question of: what is the meaning of my life, that is. Not that I wonder IF my life has meaning. But what should I really be doing with my time? Do I have the right job for me? What will my next job be? Do I take good enough care of my friends and family? Am I taking risks? Am I putting myself out there to meet the right people that will help sustain my intellectual and emotional and spiritual and playful sides over time? Am I pursuing things in my free time that I really love and that really make sense to me? Or am I doing things just, because I’ve done them in the past, and because they’re easy? You can see why I can’t go back to sleep easily.
The thing about writing is, once something is on paper, I can really see the thoughts that torture me. I can look at them. Stare at them. And usually, just that does the trick for me. All of the sudden, they’re just that: thoughts that torture me. If I separate them out, I can start to decide which ones to pay attention to. And I also find that so many of these thoughts and questions that roll around in my head sometimes for weeks, months, or even years, I have simple and straightforward answers to if I’m just willing to bring them to the forefront.
I could tell you for instance, that yes, I will always need breaks from the computer in my life. I will never be someone who writes a daily or weekly blog consistently. Thinking of writing as homework or thinking of being on a schedule just won’t ever work for me.
And does it matter if my mother and Brian are the only ones who read this on a regular basis? No, it doesn’t. I’m happy to share my thoughts and writing with them, and whoever else happens along here and there to read something. I don’t write for an audience. I would be fine writing just for myself, frankly. The thought that even one other person can get something out of witnessing my thought process – even if it’s just to know me better, because they love me – is something that I’m grateful for. I don’t take their interest for granted.
Through writing I can also identify the real questions I have. Like – is having a blog a phase for me? Good question. I guess I’ll wait and see.
And the whole meaning of life merry-go-round? Of course I know there’s no quick, simple, easy answer to that question. Asking these questions is enough. I hope I am someone who always wakes up in the middle of the night periodically to check in on my life. Even if it means I’m tired and cranky at work the next day. I want to make sure that what I’m doing makes sense to me. I want to ask myself real questions. It’s nice to have the time and space to think big like this as I form and re-form my life with each day, each decision I make, and each dream I dream.
1 comment:
Just so you know, Tiff, I thoroughly enjoyed reading this.
That's all. Simple as that. ;-)
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