I started a blog… once. I have no idea where it is. I think it might have been called something like “Mommy Has Left the Building,” which tells you more about my frame of mind at the time than anything else. My kids were little–most likely an infant and a toddler. Most of you get that, and I probably don’t have to explain anything else. Thank goodness the days of actual privacy in the shower are back again, as my kids are now in the 5th and 7th grades. Though I can’t say I don’t miss their little munchkin faces with cheeks I just wanted to kiss or their sweet little voices, especially when they invariably agreed with everything Mommy and Daddy said. Days long gone for sure, but the love just grows and grows as the days roll by.
Back in those days, I remember reluctantly cancelling my decade-long subscription to The New Yorker. Who had time to read; especially a magazine whose pages I needed to read at leisure, with full concentration?! And it came once a week! I was soon drowning in issues and I called to stop the madness only to save my sanity (though anybody with wee ones knows sanity hangs by a mere thread at any point of time, waiting simply for little fingers with nails that need cutting to clip it accidentally).
But that, as S.E. Hinton would say, was then and this is now. While I haven’t quite bitten the bullet on restarting The New Yorker, I have started reading again in the last few years and I’ve become quite the voracious reader. I’m like the guy at the end of The Twilight Zone–you know, the last human left on Earth who finally (finally!) gets time to read and is surrounded by books, only to break his last pair of glasses. Except that my glasses are intact and I’m not quite the last Earthling standing. But I am surrounded by books. And it feels like I’ve come home.
So, I did start that blog once, and obviously abandoned it. (I imagine the Internet would be a pretty scary place if it was actually physical–think of all of those long hallways opening up on deserted rooms. Somebody might have cleaned the room first, perhaps even put up a picture or moved in a desk, but then it was abandoned and left to layers and layers of dust). But I’m a writer and the creative spark never died inside me, even when I ignored it for long, denying who and what I am in my soul in exchange for jobs that paid me to be and do something other than what came naturally to me.
Thought still a slave to the almighty dollar, I’m striving to stoke that spark into a flame. I’ve been asked often enough whether I have a blog, to showcase my work. Well, I do now. I might post thoughts, story ideas, snippets of stories in progress, things that I find amusing, or observations. It all factors into my writing. And now that I take those uninterrupted showers, I’m able to hear myself think and ask “What if?” and say “I wonder”, and the ideas and words pour forth in trickles and in torrents. So bring your galoshes: You never know what you’ll find here.
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