Here's a Thing (#1)

When your friends start asking if you have a blog and seem legitimately disappointed when you say no, you start to think, “I do have a lot on my mind, maybe it would be good for me to start writing.”  When they start requesting that you start a blog?  That’s when things start to feel a little weird.  See, the thing is, I have a lot going on up in my brain. It’s busy up there.  And it comes out in words when I’m with my friends…a LOT of words.  I‘m a thinker and a talker, no two ways about it.  I am so thankful for all of the people in my life (especially my husband), who have had to listen to my many (varied, but endless) diatribes, and more importantly, that they stay my friends.  I like to think that they have an appreciation for my process, and I love that they allow me to do what I have to do in order to mentally get from point A to point B.  Even if that’s long texts, emails that could be the beginning of novels, phone calls where I prattle on and I’m pretty sure you could put the phone down and walk away and I might not even notice (mom, dad, I’m looking at you), or one of the many other ways I manage to corner people with my words.

I remember reading a book when I was younger where there is a bit about a girl’s mother saying that she believes we only have a certain number of words that God gave us when we were born, and when we use those words up, it’s time for us to go.  I don’t remember anything else about the book, not even what the cover looked like, but I remember that part.  I remember that part because it always made me feel like I was in pretty deep shit.  Like, I sure hope God gave me a BUNCH of words, because I am running through these things like they’re going out of style.  It made me think about slowing down for a second, but at a certain point I had to just embrace that I’m a talker.  It’s how I connect with people, how I process my own emotions and the world around me, and how I make sense of the things that other people say and do.  I sure hope that girl’s mom was wrong.  (If she was right, it would be swell if there was a loaner system, because I have some quiet friends and I’m pretty sure you guys could loan me some words and we’d all be fine.)

Another book I remember reading as a kid was called Star Girl.  It was this great YA novel about non-conformity, and also about what giant assholes teenagers can be.  I remember wanting to be more like the main character in the book, wanting so, so badly to not care a whit what other people think of me, and just do whatever it was that made me happy.  But I also remember thinking that it was already so difficult for me to make friends and I was already a little bit of an outsider, and as a kid nothing is scarier or worse than being a weirdo.  I read this book several times and still couldn’t figure out what to do, so one day I was on the Internet, and I found something that said it would allow me to send an email to the author of the book.  I sent him a message about how the book made me feel, but that I was still a little conflicted.  He never wrote back, and I remember that really bothering me (don’t forget, this was late 90s/early 2000s, and I was a kid on the Internet.  I could have sent this message to the University of Texas Astronomy Department for all I know).  If Jerry Spinelli ever comes across this post – dude, hmu.  I’ve got questions.  My words, for as much as I throw them around, are still important to me. 

I’ve decided to take this step and share some of my words because I think it’s something I will enjoy.  A way to pick apart the parts of my life that are worth sharing, and what can get thrown away.  I often think about complaining and telling a story about some long, convoluted thing that happened at work, but I get halfway into the story and think, “is this really worth sharing?  Is there really value in putting this out into the world?”  When the answer is no, it makes it so much easier for me to move on and focus on the things that are really important.  Like my cat, and weightlifting, and cheese.  You know, the big stuff.  Keep on reading if you want to know what else that means (it's probably really, really, weird).