A weekend to remember…

I’m new to this whole blogging thing and, if I’m being honest, wordpress is intimidating.  With that in mind, you’ll bear with me as I get my wits about me and describe what I call a weekend to remember.

It has been some time since I’ve actually connected with my SELF; that part of me that doesn’t like to be alone, doesn’t like silence, and doesn’t like to be still.  I’ve placed that part of me in the middle of a hectic life, constantly bombarded with “shiny” things to distract me from being me, to keep me from self-exploration, and to divert my otherwise focused attention on the noise in my world.  Intentional?  Yes.  Quite intentional.  I’m not hiding, per se; I’m out in the open and honest with myself about my dishonesty and about my unwillingness to be quiet and still and to listen and focus.  Rather, I’ve thrown myself headlong and quite deliberately into the lives, turmoil, and troubles of my friends, my family, and even my friends’ friends.  Anything that will take my attention away from me seems a likely candidate to pursue.  It is silly, really, when I think about it in the darkest hours of night while no one else is making a sound any louder than a snore or a stray fart; it’s completely juvenile…it’s like when a child is being corrected or chastised and they become intently focused on not listening while animatedly continuing to focus every ounce of their attention on NOT listening to the person correcting/chastising them.  It’s completely stupid!  So I stopped…this past weekend…I listened, I picked up a pen, and I wrote for the first time in a long time.  I noticed my style of play, attempting to divert my attention from the task of writing by admiring my pen, by repeatedly turning the pages in my journal , by reading long since dried ink on yellowed sheets – anything to keep me from putting that pen to that page and letting it flow…and returning to the first part of the journey back to writing.

Today, I made the decision that intimidation be damned!  I will pick up this laptop, I will turn it on, and I will draft something, anything, and not be distracted from the process.  After all, it is the process, the expectation, the events leading up to the actual act that give the person the thrill of the moment…the actual act, for me, being anticlimactic.  And I am not going to look back, I am not going to second guess, hell, I’m not even going to edit.  I’m going to post this and see where it brings me…maybe tomorrow I will write about the weekend to remember instead of being diverted to write about the act of writing instead.


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