So I was walking along, minding my own business, when ,out of the blue, a big black van pulled up. Two people jumped out, grabbed me,injected me with a drug to knock me out and threw me in the back of the van. Oh wait, that is the opening scene of an episode of NCIS. whoops!
I could honestly say that I have had something to do every single day or evening or both for the last month. I could honestly say that I and my household have been sick. I could honestly say that my grandmother has is in the hospital for the second time this summer,this time for pneumonia , the last time in ICU where we almost lost her due to a bleeding ulcer. I could honestly say that my stepfather had an emergency appendectomy last week and is suffering complications this week. And every bit of that is true.
But I still had time I could have blogged, even if it was just a few sentences. Sharing my writing is hard for me to do. It is like throwing my children and grandchildren to the wolves. It is my heart and soul. It is a big fat hairy deal. The truth of the matter is that I am insanely insecure and terrified of the complete and utter failure that seems to be the theme of my life thus far.
If you know me in "real life" you may not realize how very insecure I really am. I am very good at being loud and crazy and making fun of myself. I want to beat everyone else to the punch, I guess. I am very good at pretending that its all good and if its not good it will be and if it won't I don't really care anyway. You might also know that unless I am giving a prepared speech, conveying my thoughts in an intelligent, rational, non- awkward way is nearly impossible. I use the wrong words, can't think of the words I want and even leave out parts of sentences. I do the same thing when writing in longhand. In fact, you may wonder if I am actually the one who writes these blogs with my name on them. I know several people that will argue with this perception I have of myself. I am just being honest here.
I love love love love to write. Since I was a little girl I have fantasized about writing books. I still do. But a rejection of my writing is in a sense a rejection of me,as a person. One of my greatest fears is of actually publishing a book then seeing it in dollar tree. weird huh?
When I have shared my writing, it has been with family and friends and classmates and teachers. People I knew and trusted. To do this, write this blog, is one of the scariest things I have ever done.
I mean who really reads this anyway? and are you telling your friends about this lame blog you have been reading, laughing about how ridiculous it is?