Many times when I re-read something I wrote sometime before I feel like I'm having one of those outer body experiences. As if I'm looking at myself from outside. I know I wrote those words, but I can't help but feel like I didn't.
I love writing. So why I don't write more?
One of the problems is that I don't have a great idea for something to write about everyday, or every week or even every month for that matter. And I think I can only write about a great, unique, novel topic I have some fresh perspective on. I want to write with an unusual analogy, an unexpected example or an amusing anecdote. I want to write something I LOVE every time. I don't want to write about anything trivial, common or ordinary. So I end up not writing at all. I am very demanding with myself. sigh.
Another thing that stops me from writing is the fact that I go through these weird phases (I've talked about that in a previous post I think). I will scrapbook (or sew, bake, collect, dance or take a shower upside down) for a month and then I move on to the next cool thing. (ok, maybe not the last one but you get my gist). So, some time ago I was on a blogging frenzy and I posted a lot of stuff. And then I didn't anymore. People expect consistency and I can't provide that, I think. Sorry. Don't be like me.
I also have a serious issue with compliments that I expected to have resolved by now (I'm in my thirties people!) I don't know if it was my being a first child or if I can blame having blue eyes (in a country where people think it's really cool to have blue eyes- go figure), but the truth is I thrive when I get compliments. Or even worse, I NEED compliments.
(I think my husband knows this very well and uses it to his advantage by getting me to do things just by saying : " But you do it so well!" or the even lower: " But you do it SO much better than me!" It works. Every time.)
And that's why I wrote this blog post. When I opened my Facebook page today expecting to read all the compliments about my latest photo session or about my beautiful daughter dressed in her Easter dress (I'm telling you, don't be like me!), I found a message from a long time friend who I love and haven't seen in years. She is one of most interesting, intelligent, fun people I've ever met and although we don't see each other much (or ever!), I love her dearly.
It was a heartfelt message, beautifully written, (she's a writer) full of sweet words, deep feelings, true love and a lot of compliments about my blog posts, that although undeserved for the most part, touched me and moved me to come to the decision that I want to try to write more and more often (keyword being TRY, people). Compliments really can get me to do anything. Don't be like me.
She ended her message saying she knew I hadn't written those things for her but that she appreciated them and that they had touched her somehow. She couldn't be more wrong. Everything I write is for her, and for you. Because everything I write is shaped by the people I know, and love, and by the people who made me who I am.
So this is for her. And for you. Whoever you may be.
2 comments:
Well my darling, it seems then that I have no choice but to compliment myself - for being responsible for making you feel like writing more and more, sharing with blessed, lucky people like me the talent and passion that spark from your unique person (and are so rare these days in this dull, senseless world). You deserve every and each compliment always. And you've made my day - yet again!
Write, write and write. If not for you,do it for us.
You offer us special moments and make our lives happier and better.
Thanks a lot for sharing things in such a creative way.
Mummy
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