Bill Murray's famous toast in Groundhog Day, "I like to say a prayer and drink to world peace," is very much how I handle my blog entries. I've taken a break from rereading and editing (and yes, I do like where things are headed - book-wise) and I thought a blogpost and prayer will inspire and bring peace to the masses. Alright, in truth, I want to write something and short stories do not pour out of me - only those pesky epic fantasies - so to blog or not to blog. I'm blogging.
At this unforeseen turn in my life, I have ventured at once into known and unknown territory. I've seldom had this much say in my own doings - life had a regimented structure which was rather consuming. The last four years took away even my ability to write, or maybe questioned the need. No blame, just a reality check. I'm pretty sure we need to take the time for art and looking beyond just what is before us. And certainly, look up once in a while.
I must confess, living in this no-man's land makes me wonder about so many things at once: human psychology and why folk do what they do, or react certain ways, or turn a blind eye. But I am being purposely vague and terribly judgmental. In this time of social media, social engineering, and out in the open craziness, it's no wonder the human psyche has shut down. I'm gonna remain old school when it comes to friendships and human interaction - yes, I'm stupid enough to still trust.
What is difficult today is communication. I mean honestly, it's easier than ever to message folk or text; comment on a facebook post; and do whatever people do on Instagram. It's also easy to get burnt and shutdown those avenues. I must also confess, conversations on Messenger are unnerving and I find myself wishing to talk on phones, if not actually have a conversation face-to-face. Perish the thought. Truly, you can make the case that this blog is one way of communicating. I really do have a lot to say sometimes and since I have few ways to say anything, I unleash it in a blog. I suppose it is cleansing...if only someone reads it.
My last confession. I was talking to someone recently about writing who had an interest to start, and I mentioned not to write for therapy and for autobiographic means. I mean, how dare I? Write, dammit. Let whatever you need to say come out...pour out. Let it be therapeutic. Let it be art. Whatever it is, writing is more than the instant gratification crowd bothers to do, and that's the point. Do for yourself. Start writing. Let it happen with an openness you may have never had before. Find proofreaders and hone the craft. I hope I get to read it someday.
One my playlist at this moment, the Last Nail, Dan Fogelberg.
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