Wednesday, October 26, 2005

Bloggin' Blues

I am not checking again. I am not logging in, not calling up this blog, not looking to see if anyone has stopped by.

Okay. I am. But not for another three hours.

Theoretically, I could be talking to thousands of people. In reality, I might just as well discuss my thoughts with the water in my toilet bowl or my plants. Is this important?

A writer likes to communicate. In order to communicate, ideally, there should be a communicator and a communicatee. (I know that's not a word. Please God, don't let the only comment for weeks be a correction of my vocabulary.)

On the other hand (and there's always another hand if you're me), a *Buddhist warrior training slogan floats to mind: "Don't expect applause." That drifts along in my grey matter and bumps into a vaguely remembered Maslow Inventory test result...something about having a high level of self-actualization. Which means being who you want to be without undue fuss over living up to the expectations of society. More or less.

You might also expect that a serious schizophrenic would score high in that too, but nonetheless, these thoughts cheer me. I ask myself why I'm writing this blog - and I answer myself (because the water in the toilet bowl and my plants are notoriously uncommunicative), because I can't not write. (Please God, don't let the only comment be a correction of a double negative.)

Because I can't not write. Because I love to write. Because the small, everyday stuff seems miraculous to me. Because I want to wave to the world, send them a raspberry, blow them a kiss, raise my middle finger and wave it around. I want to congratulate all of us, including myself, for being here. Just for being here, which is an act of supreme bravery.


(*see: The Places That Scare You, Pema Chodron, Shambhala Boston & London 2001.)


Lucas said...

lj--just dropping in after you dropped in on my at jumpers hole--by the sounds of it, just in time. (just kidding!). Hey, I've read through a bunch of your stuff today and really enjoyed reading what you've had to say. I didn't comment on any one piece, because I didn't really have time. However, just to name a couple that I can recall: bondage pumpkins, blogoff (I have one on this theme, called Looking for Mr. Goodblog (in the Archives-- for June?). I can see that writing and communicating are very important to you--and that you have something of yourself to share. Keep it up. I will be reading you regularly, even if I'm not always commenting.

LJ said...

I love you Lucas.

Don't tell my toilet water or plants though, they have seniority.

Teri said...

I have your blog bookmarked and visit everyday! Love what and how you write. Funny, my mentality about commenting on other people's sites: I assume I don't have anything interesting to say, that the blogger knows she's wildly entertaining and my commenting would just be stating the obvious. But I jump for joy when I get a comment on one of my posts, and when no one comments I wonder, is anyone reading this? :(

I'm with you: I would write anyway, but having an audience makes the communication complete. Sharing our experiences, even the mundane ones, does give them a wonderful new dimension.

LJ said...

Actually, Teri..

I have the same problem. And usually the more I'm impressed, amused or interested - the less articulate I become.

But it IS nice to know people read, isn't it? People, on the whole, are a much better audience than plant life.

And by the way, all, if you haven't checked Yidchick yet (link on my page)- the last one was rolling on the floor territory. And true.

Koru's Daughter said...

My plants and toilet bowl water say hello to your plants and toilet bowl water.

Before I adopted my cat, I would sing and talk when I roamed the house. The cat is a useful prop because now I claim that I am singing and talking to her. I even pretend that I am doing it to help her calm her skiddishness and PTSD. Very selfless of me, huh?

Yet, sometimes I get a glimmer that the kitty does appreciate my attention. This morning, when she was scared by the cleaners, she hid under my pillow.

Sometimes when I am upset at work, I go to this blog and hid under your fluffy words. Hope you don't mind.