Little things

It may sound obvious, but a friend had to remind me of the power of the written word. I know. Hello. I'm a writer. How could I possibly be so stupid?

But as a writer I write about everything fiction, nonfiction, business writing, creative writing...and I desperately avoid journaling. I just don't keep a diary, or a journal. I don't write about my feelings, or what happened, or the way that I feel. I keep it all inside, I let it drip out like little threads to people I know in trust, different strands for different friends, but it never all gets out in the open. Not really. It's so easy to keep that wall up, and protect this image of a person that you have created even with the people closest to you.

I love my friends because they are all different. They all represent different sides of me. Some of them are nurturing, they are so compassionate that even I can't understand how they continue to give. And honestly, sometimes I wonder if I am worth it. Others are spiritual. They see the things that others don't see. They think on another level, beyond the mundane, about things that 98% of the world just can't grasp. I've got friends in low places, that are there when I think life just can't get any worse, and somehow they manage to lift my spirt. They are the friends you hang with in sweats of pjs. The friends who will stand outside with you in the middle of the parking lot in subzero weather while you have a complete breakdown. The same friends that will not bat an eye when you polish off a pint of ben and jerry's ice cream. And there are the ambitious and intelligent friends who challenge you to be more than you ever thought possible.

I have wonderful friends. And I love them dearly, but it occurs to me that as close as we are, no one gets the whole story. No one sees the whole picture. Part of that is my fault. Part of me doesn't want to show it all. Part of me doesn't need to show it all. But it was one of the wise and spiritual friends that reminded me that even if I don't show it all to a person, Ihave to have away to get it out. And journaling, if even to myself is one way to doing that. It is one step closer to letting go, forgiveness, moving on.

I know the kind of person that I want to be. I just hope that I have the strength and the patience to get there.

And he said, "Let there be blogs"

It's the little things that make life great. Waking up in the morning to find the world covered in a blanket of snow. Turning on the tv to discover a marathon of your favorite show. And it's the smallest things about the people closest to you that warm your heart after they are long gone. Like the way a sterling silver ID braclet hangs from the wrist, or the scratchyness that comes with the mornings first words. It's the things you get used to each day, that you miss the most when there gone and yet ironically those are the same little things that make life worth living.

I'm not sure why I felt the need ot share that. I woke up early this morning, the house was still, and this is what was on my mind. I've been thinking about it all day, reminiscing about the past--day dreaming about the future. But isn't that what a snowy winter Sunday is made for? Sitting on a couch with a cup of tea; a crackling fire, bowl of soup and good book; that is what the day was meant for.

All that thinking and I believe that I have come up with one conclussion, that whatever life brings my way, be it trying or a breeze I can get though it. And I am lucky I think, to have such great people in my life. I've been thinking that maybe that is a good thing.

Starting the New Year Right

Everyone's talking about bloggers, and I thought as loyal readers you might find this interesting. A recent news article reported this...

"Though blog readership jumped, the percentage of online Americans who write blogs grew only slightly — to 7 percent in November, up from 5 percent early in the year. Blog creators tend to be male, affluent, well-educated and young; 70 percent of them have high-speed connections at home, and 82 percent have been online at least six years. "

Guess I don't exactly fit the profile. But that's whats so great about blogging. That and it's free.

So I started the new year off on the right foot. I got a chapter revised...well semi revised and moved onto new territory. it always feels so great when I move onto new stuff. Except for that moment off sheer panic when you stare at the blank white screen and that flashing black cursur. It's not so great then. But I've found the best way to deal with any fear is constant exposure. Most fear is all in your head. It's psychological, your brain has connected something unpleasant to a specific stimulous, an animal, a sound, an experience, a flashing cursor on a blank screen. It's such a basic instint that I think a lot of people forget that by constantly facing that fear, and proving it wrong your mind will naturally erase the stigma.

So that's what I do. Or that's what I am trying to do. Break down that fear of the white page by plowing on, full steam ahead. Sometimes, like today...I surprise myself with good writing. Sure it needs work, I know that there is a paragraph in there where I used the same verb at least three times. But those are things that I can change later. I just want the story down. The skeleton. I am an excellent plastic surgeon, if I have something to work with. Right now I have nothing. And as talented as I am, I'm certain plastic surgeons weren't meant to play god. That's what I'm doing. In more ways than one, and it's hard work. There will be no seventh day of rest for this chicky.

Anyway. Happy New Year! Good luck with the resolutions. If you want to read the rest of that article here is the link.

peace out.