Humanity

in which I tell you what I am not writing about.

writing about things that i don’t want to write about, at any level? hmm. meta meta?

1. i’ve never written exact events in my story as i remember marriage. and i mean, anywhere. i never journaled about it, never took pictures, never captured it, except in my head and memory. and its my story, even if there were other players.

i’ve been challenged to write it, as a therapeutic tool. not here, not publicly, but in the world. because writing things down gives them power.

and also sets them on fire so they can float off.

2. i’d like to write about my mother-in-law. I’ve known her since I was 15. She was my first, most powerful example of the kind of woman I’d want to be, that I could be. I knew her long before I knew her children, or the father of my kids. She was my high school English teacher, and fierce. Unapologetic. Worldly. (she was from New York, after all)… I’m scared to write about her because I feel like its too risky, that there may be loss involved and I don’t want to get into it. I’m thrilled that I got to keep her in my life and I’m ever better for it. But I think if I start I will float off on waves of sadness.

3. Sex. I’m super at writing about it, and having it…but not here. I don’t really have a forum for writing about sex and relationships, because I claim this space as just my own, my own thoughts about things and I try not to include other people unless I am reacting or responding. BUT, its been pointed out that I am leaving so much unsaid that my story almost becomes untrue. And if I start? Hmm. That’s a whole different kind of blog, right?

Is that true, that leaving things out makes me untrue? I don’t think so. And yet, I’m caught on the snag of it.

And that’s today’s essay folks. love you, miss you, really want to kiss you. 🙂

What do you not talk about?

ash blaze bonfire burn
Bonfire sparks… Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com
Humanity

Who she what? January.

Cynthia Lee prompt today:

Introduce yourself.

and its time, to reintroduce myself to this new crew, here. and, happily, it can fall into list form.

  1. I am she who is a mother, to three, through and through. they consume much of my world, and i feel the skin peel off when they are not here, and the great joy that they have love in other houses, even though that is complicated and more skin peels.
  2. I am the one who compulsively defends. Compulsively. I think it is in my personality to see all the sides, the justifications, and sometimes that hurts the ones I am actually loyal to. “Who’s side are you on?” is the refrain of the hurt. I’m always on their side, though, every single time.
  3. I am one of those captured by beautiful things, and you’d be surprised at (and not) what I am caught by. Chaos, Simplicity, Complexity, Decking materials, fireplaces, typefaces, brick, deterioration, pattern, waterdroplets, owl pellets, dew.
  4. I am she who sinks deep into thought, the otherworldly, the rehash of things long done, the pitterpatter of fairy toes, the simply blanks of looking. there is a meditation in my blankness that not even i can understand.
  5. I’m of age, a weaver of my beauties, a grasp at tendrils of divine, a pull of greenlife, a beat of mothering. I cannot wait to see what comes of that.
  6. I worry. I think to prepare for the worst, and know I could not ever handle that, and know I could, too. And I am betwixt and between which one I could stomach.
  7. I am the hedonist, the seeker of pleasure, gratification and sense. Finding one to match that is proving elusive. There are so many rules I can’t understand, and stumble over. Intuition and expectation street fight in muck.
  8. I’m the eyeroller. (thank god not every call is facetime) The one who allows so much bullshit to pass without confrontation. Zero confrontation. Do not mistake my lack of confrontation for respect. It is not that. I will let you have your ego. You keep it. Tend it, love it. I don’t give a shit.
  9. I’m the one who struggles with taking care of myself beyond pleasure. I am not good at the hydration and the physical fitness. I am not. I love the donuts. I’m not on many of my lists of things to do. I am also she who works on that list, every day. I’m trying, sometimes.
  10. I am the one who loves the list, the way in which you get the small capsules to read, the bits. I wrote a story in my 20s called Bites, and I loved the format and still do, of small bits and nibbles of story, and the blanks are yours, yours to roll around in, like poetry.

love love,

me.

Woah. I am she of the up-close, too. Good lord.
Humanity

December submissions

  1. I’m working on draft 8 of a story for someone else. draft 8. i just want you to read that a few more times. my ego is being worn to nothing. i am at the mercy of the learning curve. i submit to the giant alien claw from above, already. i do.
  2. I’m pretty sure my kids are getting unequal gifts (no more ps5!! yay!!) and my littlest is the easiest to buy for and so i haven’t really addressed it yet and covid is on fire everywhere and i really just need to hit target for her. the new gift of the magi? do i get covid just to buy her a cheap chinese toy? more submission.
  3. submission is super sexy in bed, sometimes. in all the directions. don’t read this if you are one of my mom’s friends, or my aunt. 🙂
  4. sigh.
  5. I love the idea of people digging into their own imaginations. A friend told me his wife had no inner dialogue and she concurred. My whole world exploded. How is that even possible?
  6. I am a dementor, here, in isolation. ( I don’t really know where to take that metaphor, as i do not suck happy memories from anyone other than myself) My sister said this following thing and I think its true. I think deeply and feel deeply and often hear no other adult voice for days at a time, so when I do hear a challenge, it is all the more shocking.

Crap guys. I just realized I have to go to the flipping mall. Today’s my only day without kids on my tail. Its noon and I need to go before it gets dark. HAAAAA.

love you. do.

uwmf