I love words. I love gathering them up and washing their little faces and putting them in their best dress and then lining them up so that people see them and say, "Wow, look how much she loves words."
Words are my drug of choice and the reason is that whatever I write is my version of what happened. I once had a Western Civilizations professor who pointed out that history is written by the victor. It is true. People don't generally sit down and write, "Yea, they stormed into our camp before dawn and kicked the living daylights out of us. It was shameful. We fought like little girls."
No, the losers go home and write their own version of what happened, picking and choosing the small battles won and recording them in securely bound journals for no one else to see.
I love recording my life and sharing it for everyone to see. I'm a chronic open book. See that. I lived through that. I'm a better person for it, but I'm mighty tired. Oh, and look at this one. I screwed that one up like a Cecil B. DeMille production. But I can share it with you so you know how not to do it.
And this is what I do. I sit most days and a few too many nights and strip down to my most vulnerable self and I share. I share the deepest, darkest parts of me. And the beauty is that I hear from you. You write me secret emails and post comments and tell me that you understand because you have failed also. And in that way, we are instantly comrades, commiserating with one another. We are kindred spirits in the war together. And we come out on top most of the time. But whether or not we win, we live to tell about it.
What I post may sometimes make you cringe or be embarrassed for me, but chances are really quite good that you might find yourself in a similar pickle jar one day and you will remember. Oh, yea. She went through that. And she made it. And now we can compare our scars and boast about whose are bigger and deeper.
In that way, by opening and bearing my soul, I am able to always make things write. I am not boasting or bragging or exalting myself. I am in the trenches with you and I love you for sharing back with me your feelings about our journey.
Stay tuned for tomorrow's post. I am about to disclose some things that might surprise you. See you then.
Words are my drug of choice and the reason is that whatever I write is my version of what happened. I once had a Western Civilizations professor who pointed out that history is written by the victor. It is true. People don't generally sit down and write, "Yea, they stormed into our camp before dawn and kicked the living daylights out of us. It was shameful. We fought like little girls."
No, the losers go home and write their own version of what happened, picking and choosing the small battles won and recording them in securely bound journals for no one else to see.
I love recording my life and sharing it for everyone to see. I'm a chronic open book. See that. I lived through that. I'm a better person for it, but I'm mighty tired. Oh, and look at this one. I screwed that one up like a Cecil B. DeMille production. But I can share it with you so you know how not to do it.
And this is what I do. I sit most days and a few too many nights and strip down to my most vulnerable self and I share. I share the deepest, darkest parts of me. And the beauty is that I hear from you. You write me secret emails and post comments and tell me that you understand because you have failed also. And in that way, we are instantly comrades, commiserating with one another. We are kindred spirits in the war together. And we come out on top most of the time. But whether or not we win, we live to tell about it.
What I post may sometimes make you cringe or be embarrassed for me, but chances are really quite good that you might find yourself in a similar pickle jar one day and you will remember. Oh, yea. She went through that. And she made it. And now we can compare our scars and boast about whose are bigger and deeper.
In that way, by opening and bearing my soul, I am able to always make things write. I am not boasting or bragging or exalting myself. I am in the trenches with you and I love you for sharing back with me your feelings about our journey.
Stay tuned for tomorrow's post. I am about to disclose some things that might surprise you. See you then.