Thursday, September 19, 2013
Have you ever had one of those days where you just feel compelled to do something? Like maybe that something is in your nature? Like its been what you were born to do?
I've had a rough go, the past couple of weeks/months/year. And I've been struggling to keep up with and process my life as it is now, where its been, and where in the tropical paradise it may or may not be heading.
My husband came home from work one day, and before even saying hello to me, he began his greeting as "...write it. You need to write it. You have a story and you need to tell it". And when I rolled my eyes and left the room, he followed me. And in the middle of cooking dinner he turns around and says, "But really, Tia, you have to write", to which I responded with promptly twisting on my toes and and walking as far away from the bacon fog that I could. Where there is the scent of bacon, there is my husband. And apparently his wacky ideas. These outbursts of neglected genius spat out at random for the next two days, until he got distracted by candy crush and the idea of organic farming (which is an interrupting, almost haunting for him, thought that comes and goes in irregular cycles) and let it be.
Today a good friend of mine got some great news. She was accepted to be a regular contributor for an inspirational and supportive magazine. And my initial reaction was to pound on my little iphone keyboard in excitement, which I did, but then deleted and responded a little bit more appropriately (I don't know why I bothered censoring myself), but- immediately I was overcome with "wait, but I have to write, too". I felt envious. I felt happy for this friend, I think my heart may have started beating stronger at the thought of her much needed and well deserved leap towards personal healing and mentoring those who I know need her in their lives. But it also opened up my eyes to what I've been denying myself for so long.
I am a writer. I need to write. I will to write. It comes as naturally to me as breathing.
I have a story to tell. I have many stories to tell. I have so many stories to tell, that sometimes I just lay in the hammock and stare at the palm trees blankly, remembering minor details of my life in such extravagant color and liveliness, that I forget where I am (on a tropical island in the middle of the Pacific). I lose myself in my own daydreams. Sometimes for fun, I alter my memories. Kind of like choose your own adventure books? Only not sometimes, ....most-times. I kind of put my own spin on my life. Is that totally weird (yes)?
So I'm going to write about my past, my present, and my future. I'm going to talk about the real things that I experience that nobody else talks about. I'm going to summon chapters from my brain, to my keyboard, and I'm going to fill in the gaps with fantasy and dramatization. Because, well- that seems quite fitting.
Ok, my son just brought me a clipboard holding a pink heart drawn on a blue piece of construction paper saying "here you go, its for you, I love you", as my husband is yelling "THE BEEF IS READY", while my baby is babbling "mamamamamamamama", and my trouble maker is making trouble, and my whiner is whining. All of this at the same time. Which means my "Hey world, I'm going to give this my all!" post needs to get wrapped up, and fast.
So what I'm sayin' is... new blog, coming soon. More or less.