Sunday, July 14, 2013

Concerning Writing

While sitting in the car waiting for my Husband to come out of what must have been the seventh hardware store of that particular shopping trip, I picked up my phone, and started reading a few of my last blog posts.  Having not visited since January, (and not being at all troubled by that), I was quite detached from what I had written.  Much to my surprise, I quite enjoyed what was there.  This surprised me because whenever I reread the drivel in my journal, I hate myself.  I usually burn it and pretend it never happened.  Not to say that I feel it is very good writing, but most of what I write here is positive.  Happy memories or recent experiences are what have inspired my blog entries thus far.  There is nothing dishonest about what I've allowed to filter through onto the web, but there certainly is plenty left out.  
Just because I haven't written anything here in the past 6 months doesn't mean I have been living in an institute, (although a couple of weeks may have been of some help) I just haven't been drawn toward writing.  At all.  A switch must have flipped, because in the past few days, I can't get enough of it.  My fingers have visible indents from my pen, and the palm of my hand was still sore when I woke up this morning
I keep several journals, all with different themes.  There is the one that gets burned immediately, I won't risk anyone's judgment on the stuff that goes into that.  Yes, it's spiral bound, and yes, it's getting thin.  Then there is the one that will probably eventually find it's way to the fire, only because I reread it, and wondered how on Earth anyone could be that stupid.  Another is for a daily account of activities and memories, a memoir for my children and for anyone else who survives me and is at all interested. 
I write for all sorts of reasons.  The therapy of the get-it-out-of-my-head-and-promptly-destroy-it method works great for all sorts of different rants I want to go on but don't ever want to be held accountable for.  Another type of writing helps me to sort out my less dramatic issues or at least help me focus my thoughts.  The daily account of events is great for keeping me grounded and keeps me in a state of appreciation of what I have in my life.  Blogging has just been fun.  I've enjoyed 'meeting' other bloggers for their creativity, their humor, and their stories.
You may be wondering what the picture above has to do with anything I've written so far.  Well, I've never had an entry that didn't have a photo to go with it, so for the sake of being consistent, and for not wanting to forget what my Husband said about those darling lizard planters, I threw in a photo.  Now for the story:  I purchased these planters for myself as a gift for Mother's Day, (hence the mommy and baby lizard).  I later hung them on the fence in a flower garden I was creating and planted a few lovely, red begonias in them.  When my Husband and I went out for a walk in the evening to appreciate all the work we had done on the yard that day, I was very quick to point out my wonderful planters.  He said, "They look like they're injured and bleeding."  He later added, "You couldn't have used blue, yellow, purple?  Anything but red."  Now, I cannot walk by the lizards without thinking that their entrails are hanging out.  I will definitely be choosing a different color to fill them with next year.


  1. I love your lizards. I do not see entrails. I just hear the song Scarlet Begonias.
    Writing is a very personal experience. The idea that you put yourself out into the blogging family to share a little bit of yourself, is rather a big deal. Thank you for taking the risk and telling us all a little bit of your life.

  2. Hi Jocelynn,
    Thanks for stopping by and leaving such a reassuring comment. It's visitors like you that make me want to keep on blogging and interacting with new people.
    Oh, and good luck with that new walkway.


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