I’m back. I think.
It has been a long time since I posted on this blog. Not
because my head doesn’t overflow with ideas about what I could write, but
honestly, I just haven’t been able to justify taking the time to write in this
medium. I am lucky if I take the time to simply write in my journal biweekly.
There is only so much time and energy in one gal, so I have to be purposeful
about how I spend that energy.
Don’t think I am a disciplined person who has a solid handle
on the minutes of my day, making them as productive as possible. This is not
the case. Last night I was up ‘til two am watching Netflix and then researching
when the next season of the show I was bingeing on (3.5 hours last night) releases its
third season. Right now, while the kids are playing, I could be washing the
floor or scrubbing the bathrooms. I am not doing those things. I am not folding
the laundry in the basket, or transferring the wet batch into the dryer (or out
on to the racks on my deck for a more energy efficient solution) or working
out. I am drinking semi-warm coffee, with the breakfast dishes on the table,
and I am typing a blog post that as of yet I only have a vague idea where it
might be going.
It doesn’t really inspire readership. Honestly, after taking
a long break from writing for an audience other than me, it is hard to find the
cojones to believe that anything I might possibly say would be worth the time it
would take another person to read. What do I have to say that hasn’t already
been said? Probably nothing. What do I know about writing that would contribute
to the literary integrity of the interwebs? Again, nothing. I am embarrassingly
amateur, naïve in many of life’s’ experiences, and limited in my ability to
articulate in writing anything of lasting value. It doesn’t really paint a
picture of profound insight or usefulness, I know.
I don’t even have a purpose for my blog. It isn’t a mommy
blog. It isn’t a blog about dreads anymore, since I cut that short. (Bah
hahaha!) This isn’t a blog about art or food, how-tos, travel or faith. I can’t
even say I am a writer trying to get myself out there because I haven’t posted
anything in nearly a year. As of right now, I would say this is simply an
extension of my journal; my story, written for me and the few friends who might
bother to read, and possibly the odd stranger who might stumble here by mistake.
So why write at all? Couldn’t I just accomplish this task
within the red binding of my journal and save the energy, effort and brain
space of any of you out there who might read?
This is why I am choosing to write: Because story matters.
My story matters. Your story matters. Our stories are the things that link us
to each other. They are the bridges that span vast gulfs in time, space, misunderstanding
and position. They are the most important gift we have to share, and the most
precious gift we can receive.
I want to continue to share my story in between loads of
laundry, hacking out a garden in my yard, changing diapers, nursing cold cups
of coffee and walking the dog. I can’t guarantee I will post regularly, but I
haven’t given up on this space. I want you to know your story is essential too even
if it seems simple, unimportant, and poorly told - like mine. I’d love it if
you would share with me.
Peace.
Go for it! Always fun to hear stories. Live yah. God bless. Ken Fabbi
ReplyDeleteThanks, Ken! I can't wait to hear about China!!!!
DeleteVal
ReplyDeleteI'll read everything you write - I love your voice.
Tyler
You flatter me. ;)
DeleteI have been stumbling on your blog on purpose from the time you started, I often do a bit of a late night binge reading wondering what will be here next time I return!
ReplyDeleteThanks for reading, I hope you enjoy what you encounter!
DeleteVal