I’m not starting this blog because of a New Year’s resolution, which is good because most of mine don’t live much past the month of January. And it’s not the product of some epic brainchild or epiphany – years of being a stay-at-home mom have dulled my ambition to ponder ideas too grandiose in nature. In fact, after thirteen years of parenting, my only dream of grandeur is finding a single moment of blissful silence where I don’t have to listen to my children fighting or hear myself repeating the same phrases over and over again like a demented parrot.
This blog is strictly a means of quieting the voices in my head, or at the very least pacifying them. Not the kind of voices that will get you put on medication or committed to an insane asylum, but the kind that just won’t shut the hell up about life’s little observations, experiences, or pet peeves. Every time something happens that evokes an emotional reaction, good or bad, my brain begins to mentally write lines of descriptive prose as if that one thought will be the start of the great American novel. Often times, whatever kicked my brain into typewriter mode will wear itself out in a paragraph or two, and since there’s no such thing as the great American paragraph, my thoughts have often gone unwritten….until now.
After making two separate attempts to write a novel, I realized a couple things about myself. First, I have the attention span of a squirrel. So, anything that can’t be accomplished within an afternoon will often be put on my future ‘to do’ list… which is where most of my good ideas and intentions go to die. Secondly, I have commitment issues. I can stay married to the same man for over fifteen years, but apparently I can’t stick with the same idea for more than a month. How can my heart be so devoted and my brain be such a slut? It wants to jump around from idea to idea like it’s residing in the mental equivalent of the red light district. Thank God there’s no such thing as MTDs (mentally transmitted diseases), otherwise my brain would be a veritable Petri dish of infections. Perhaps I took that metaphor one step too far….
So, what can you expect to find in my future blog entries? Little snippets and observations that will hopefully entertain you for the ten to fifteen minutes it takes to read it… if you can’t devote that kind of time to me, I understand, my fellow squirrel. But if you can, I will make you a couple of promises:
I will not use this blog as a forum to ramble on about my entire life story, mostly because of the aforementioned commitment issues, but also because it would potentially bore you into a coma (and coma patients don’t make for a solid foundation on which to build a successful blog). Besides, my life simply isn’t tragic or inspirational enough to write about in its entirety. Readers either want to hear life stories about how some poor girl spent her entire childhood forced to live inside a shoebox or about how the lower half of some guy’s body was eaten away by piranhas, but (after a short stint in physical therapy) he managed to run the New York City marathon. Train wrecks or triumphs, right? The same compulsion that makes us want to read those kinds of stories is the same one that makes us rubberneck at roadside accidents and cheer on the sidelines for the athletic underdogs. It’s an inexplicable part of the human condition – we love drama. We feast on it… kind of like the piranha on the lower half of that guy’s body. But I stopped being a drama queen sometime after high school, and without the fuel of hormone-induced rage that my tumultuous teen years provided, I seem to have lost my flair for the dramatic. So, I’ll save the drama for the pros, like Oprah and the Kardashians.
The other promise I will make you is that I won’t preach about religion or politics – not because I don’t care about those issues… well, yeah actually it is because I don’t care….but more because I don’t presume to hold enough influence to sway anyone on those issues one way or the other. Either you believe the same things I do, or you’re wrong, no further discussion necessary.
So, sit down with me before you have to fight the road-ragers during your morning commute, or in that moment you’re debating whether or not to strangle one of your kids, and I’ll see if I can talk you out of committing homicide. Because that’s what I’m all about here at Get Write Down To It – saving lives, one blog entry at a time.