Egad, it is 11:21 already! The morning flew away on me. Too much wondering and fretting about this and that. I wasn’t going to do that anymore, right? Things are not as easy as you think. People are not who you think they are. It’s ok. I’m just muttering, my preamble into the words. I don’t mean any of it. I am happy to be here. In My Writing Space, I am the star. No one interrupts me. No one contradicts me. I like it.
I think I’ve lost my writing mojo. I feel staid, stale to be exact. I’ve lost my fire, my disagreeable self, the wringing of hands and heart. I try to be careful not to step on toes, doing and saying the proper things. Because life gets tiresome trying to be just yourself, it is easier to be agreeable or silent. Maybe there’s no more words to be said. I’ve been listening to Dr. Phil’s rant too much. ‘Do you want to be happy or do you want to be right?’ I want both.
I know this interlude won’t last forever. I’m sure I will return to ranting soon. I am who I am. I might as well enjoy my peace and get a few things done. Enjoy and live every moment! I hate mottos, don’t you? See! My sarcasm has returned. We can’t help being who we are. I do try. It’s another reason I come here to tap. I try to tap out my bad thoughts, emotions. I put them on the page so I can examine them, turn them inside out, upside down, backwards and frontward. Are they true or are they just about me? Will they help or hurt me? Will they hurt another? These are the questions I ask before I hit the PUBLISH button. I know. I think and worry too much.
In essence, I am not really brave as some people have told me. I am being me, yes, but I try to make sure it is all about me and not about others. I have slipped from time to time. What can I do? I am human. I err. While I am a very honest and open person, I do know about discretion. I don’t air dirty laundry, mine or others. Sometimes I am too honest, blurting out truths. You know how that happens. It wouldn’t hurt to hold back by being silent. Mum is a good word.
Day 3
George Washington might have fessed up about the cherry tree but I wonder what Martha would have to say about him. Honest Abe was known for his honesty, but had he been totally truthful? He was a politician after all. Things are never black and white. That’s what they tell me. I see my truths in startling stark black and white. I’m trying to learn about the 50 shades of grey. That’s why I paint. I’m exploring the many shades of being artistic. I think I am making some progress. Do you think I have some potential?
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