This blog has become kind of like the friend I fell out of touch with - it's just so hard to take that first step to re-establish contact. But today I am doing just that, because I have so many other things to do, that it seems only right to run to my little crutch - this blog - and spend my valuable time unwisely, musing about myself and other boring stuff.
So I'm back to writing. And if this habit is like most habits in my life, I'll quit and start back many times, but since it's a mostly good habit, hopefully I'll never quit for long.
I've been busy and have not blogged since mid-December, and I've been trying to analyze just why the stuff that kept me busy for the last month would be any more distracting than the stuff that usually keeps me busy, while still allowing me to blog about it. Anyway, that may not make sense, but bear with me. I've realized that the priorities and obligations that consumed me as Christmas and the New Year loomed large were primarily jobs that were "for others." Buying, making, wrapping and shipping gifts for others is one example. Baking and delivering goodies is another "other-directed" job (because Lord knows I didn't eat any of my goodies - oops, watch out for that lightning bolt!)
Then there was the trip to Chicago at the girls' request, immediately followed by a New Year's Eve open house that we hosted. Not purely altruistic endeavours, I realize, but once I was out of the habit of blogging about daily life, it was hard to start back.
After getting the kids back in school, it was time to prepare for my totally unselfish cruise with my mother, which necessitated the kind of preparations at home that only a mother who has been gone for a week during the school year could appreciate. Eric was very grateful to be relieved of cooking and chauffeuring duties when I got back, and even acted as if he missed me a little.
So every time I've caught myself in mental blog composition mode, I always thought that I'd find time to write about what was going on in a way that made the boring stuff sound fun and and the fun stuff sound commonplace. But I could never make myself sit down and do that.
And I realized one of the big reasons why, after catching up on blog-reading last week. My life is so wonderful, so blessed, so full of exceptional people who enrich my everyday experiences, sometimes it's just hard to find something to whine about. How can I whine about buying and wrapping and shipping presents, when so many people don't have the money to enjoy the material aspects of Christmas the way my family does? How can I complain about cooking for six people, when hundreds were lined up at the local soup kitchen Christmas morning? How can I complain about cleaning house for a party with 80 friends in attendance, when some folks don't have a house and have no friends to take them in?
I could go on, but I won't. When your shtick has been an all-in-fun whining-and-complaining blog, there comes a time when, even in fun, it's not appropriate. I should have been writing about all the things I'm thankful for in December. I should have been declaring my 2011 resolutions in early January. But I haven't yet learned to write about my life without the complaint-themed humor approach. Although I see now that I can't learn if I don't try.
So I'm back. My goal is to say a solemn prayer of thanksgiving every morning while my beloved Keurig is making that beloved first cup of coffee. After everyone goes to school and work, I plan to commit mental blogging while I spend a minimum of 30 minutes on the treadmill. And after those goals have been met, I need to write. If I can't write a publishable piece, I still need to write, daily, as if it is a job. Because my other goal is to make good on my amazing personal discovery of last year: I finally figured out what I want to be when I grow up.
I want to be a writer. And today is my first day on the job.