So, I got quite the "susprise," as I like to call it, today. A box arrived on our doorstep filled with fresh chocolate dipped strawberries. You know what they say about the way to a man's heart? Well, it works for me too! ha ha. Quite the awesome anniversary gift, on top of going to Seattle. We've hit our two year mark, and I'm certainly looking forward to future years to come. That boy amazes me to no end, mostly because he puts up with me when I'm moody, and bossy, when I kick his butt at Nintendo and when I take over most of the house with my scrapping stuff. Chris likes still water...and I prefer to rock the boat, or tip it over...we create a very good balance in that way. I spent a long time being someone I really wasn't, and someone I really didn't want to be. Sometimes I feel like I'm still learning how to grow in my skin, and I love him soooooo much because he sees it, even when I don't, he gets me...and fortunately for my sake...he loves me anyway!
I told myself I would be more disciplined about writing, and I haven't been. It seems my writing group meets at a time which just doesn't work for me, so I'm kinda lost on the sharing part :( This time of year for me is just difficult. I am somewhat captivated by the change, connected to the dead foliage that piles around me, because I am also part of this forced detachment and transformation, restless to find a fixed belonging to my own roots. Explaining my background, my family, requires nothing short of a map. Everything has been a series of revisions, sharp and unforgiving, leaving my identity in fragments that have simply been spliced back together. I have been working on this essay for over a year...ok, let me rephrase, the essay is done but I'm found myself constantly driven to keep revising the piece, perhaps avoiding sending it out and risking rejection....or even better, publication. Your words can be what you want them to be until you release them out into the world. Then they become something real, a message to be interpreted by someone else, there is judgment and that ugly word...expectation.
I met this random person in the bookstore the other night. I enjoy talking about books and writing and learned that his mom had named him F. Scott...(then last name) with the hopes he would become a writer, and he went on to say he has fought that destiny all his life. He found a blogsite called
sixsentences where you are challenged to write only six sentences. Think of it as your five minutes of fame. Apparently he wrote a few things, feeling particularly inspired, and they were accepted. It so happened that his first one was appearing the next day. I was a little inspired myself. Maybe I should feel lucky to have talent in more than one thing, and to be good at things I really love and enjoy. So many have pushed me, perhaps its time I push myself.
P.S. anyone who wants to maybe get together and share writing or write or something of that creative, muse biting nature, give me a shout.