My words have never been as cautiously chosen as they have in the last year. While I used to select certain words and syllables with great care, listening to their cadence, their beat, the way they fell from my lips when I breathed them aloud. I wrote with abandon, playfulness and honesty.
With as much honesty as any girl wants to have when anyone in any part of her life can flip through her thoughts. When I started writing a blog I didn’t really think about that part of it. I was just getting it out. Putting pen to paper in a digital age and storing my thoughts so I could look back at them. But in the last four years it’s never ceased to amaze me who wanders across my words. Strangers. Friends. Family. Acquaintances. Local shop keepers. People I went to school with. Lost loves. Birds. Cats. Dogs. Dinosaurs too maybe.
And it’s with cognizance of the people who may stumble upon this site or look to it for information that I sit and stare at the screen because this site has always been about me and my life. But no man is an island and so my life is and has been informed, touched and sculpted by so many other people. And places. And things.
Nouns. Let’s just say it. There are an awful lot of nouns that effect the way my life is lived and to write about my life now would be to write about the lives of others. People I’ve known for years. People I’ve known for moments. People I don’t know that happened to piss me off or make me smile as I wander through my day to day life. So not just nouns, proper nouns.
I’d be talking about the private lives of proper nouns.
And so I sit wondering what direction to take here. My need to write, and to be clear that is the reason this blog exists, is still a strong and driving force in my life. It isn’t lessened by my looming concerns with caution and thoughtfulness. It’s just infused with a sense of uncertainty that makes writing the way I once did terribly difficult right now. I feel as though I’ve been staring into the morning sun waiting for the growing light to make things clear only to be momentarily blinded by the glare.
8 thoughts on “the opposite of abandon…”
No answers, but I’ve struggled with the same issue. After I wrote about some awful behavior on the part of family at my sister’s wedding, I ended up with furious parents and one aunt – as if the writing of the story was somehow worse than their conduct. I censored myself afterward, and my blogging was much more about restraint than expression, and it defeated the purpose. Mostly, it was like a little performance piece, propaganda for my life. (When opposing parties in a case found it and read about me, I went pseudonymous.)
In any event, I hope you find your path, and that you keep writing.
But that’s where the fun is…. Debating blogging myself to help create drive focus and a
narrative to connect the random dots
My twitter account has come across the same kind of behavior modifications. Pen names can always be good.
i agree with “anselm”……. the fun is in the honesty. the honest blogs are the most worthy and the most fun to read. they are also the ones that inspire and touch (me). i wish i had the balls to blog my head drivel with abandon, maybe i’d be less of a headcase? or not? :)
Yep/ It sucks. Most people know my real name by now, but man – I’d like to use my real one, only… what a pain in the ass THAT would be. Can’t win.
One thing I’ve noticed is that there are people who really hate to hear the truth, especially when it is about them.
Its a crappy place to be in.
Ponderation is a curious place. Best wishes.