Contributor
I am listed as a contributor to this blog, but I have not done much in the way of fulfilling my blogging duty. It has been suggested to me by my sweet hubby, several times in fact, that I should do a little writing to, you know, get back into the writing swing of things.
It's hard. In my own head I have that ever present "List of a Hundred Things To Do" around the house, with the baby, next week, before I die . . . and daily writing just is not on any of those lists. Why? I don't know. Well, I'm sure I know but I don't want to take the time to think about it. Which is an odd sort of state to be in. You see, I went to college to major in writing only to discover that I had to "join" the writing major with something. So my Bachelor's Degree is in English/Writing (with a rather heavy emphasis on writing); and yet, I have done very little since I graduated.
One would then think that writing would come so easily to me, that I would want to write my hand off, that I would want to expound on something, anything in writing. And, between you and me, it is all true. I have allowed my writing pen to go dry out of fear of failure. Which is funny considering how anyone who chooses a life in the arts - painting, dance, theater, and even writing - is often faced with constant rejection. I know this and yet, even here in this medium, I am worried (but not so worried that I chose this rather than put pen to paper and have the ability to hide my writing away in some drawer).
Well, so what? I guess I have finally decided that I need to take a little bit of time out of my day to do a little something creative for me. Which may at first sound selfish (and indeed as I write this I feel it is so), but it is not. Every night that I put my daughter to bed, one of the last things I tell her after I whisper "goodnight" is "It is time to go to sleep and dream, my dear, and promise me that you will dream big".
Well, how can I tell my daughter to dream big when I don't even dream little. The latest dream I had was eating 3 chicken tacos for dinner. I kid you not. That is the dream I had last night. wow. Mind-blowing, I know. So after thinking about this taco dream all morning (yes, I really did), I have decided to write again.
I'm not sure what you'll find here. Maybe a creative bit here and there, a poem or two, the latest news on my ever growing little girl, perhaps a rant on something that irks me. Who knows, maybe those chicken tacos will turn into something bigger; I'll be sure to let you know.
-posted by Linda (the hubby needs to give the wife another tutorial)
It's hard. In my own head I have that ever present "List of a Hundred Things To Do" around the house, with the baby, next week, before I die . . . and daily writing just is not on any of those lists. Why? I don't know. Well, I'm sure I know but I don't want to take the time to think about it. Which is an odd sort of state to be in. You see, I went to college to major in writing only to discover that I had to "join" the writing major with something. So my Bachelor's Degree is in English/Writing (with a rather heavy emphasis on writing); and yet, I have done very little since I graduated.
One would then think that writing would come so easily to me, that I would want to write my hand off, that I would want to expound on something, anything in writing. And, between you and me, it is all true. I have allowed my writing pen to go dry out of fear of failure. Which is funny considering how anyone who chooses a life in the arts - painting, dance, theater, and even writing - is often faced with constant rejection. I know this and yet, even here in this medium, I am worried (but not so worried that I chose this rather than put pen to paper and have the ability to hide my writing away in some drawer).
Well, so what? I guess I have finally decided that I need to take a little bit of time out of my day to do a little something creative for me. Which may at first sound selfish (and indeed as I write this I feel it is so), but it is not. Every night that I put my daughter to bed, one of the last things I tell her after I whisper "goodnight" is "It is time to go to sleep and dream, my dear, and promise me that you will dream big".
Well, how can I tell my daughter to dream big when I don't even dream little. The latest dream I had was eating 3 chicken tacos for dinner. I kid you not. That is the dream I had last night. wow. Mind-blowing, I know. So after thinking about this taco dream all morning (yes, I really did), I have decided to write again.
I'm not sure what you'll find here. Maybe a creative bit here and there, a poem or two, the latest news on my ever growing little girl, perhaps a rant on something that irks me. Who knows, maybe those chicken tacos will turn into something bigger; I'll be sure to let you know.
-posted by Linda (the hubby needs to give the wife another tutorial)
posted by Ed at 3:46 PM
2 Comments:
Three chicken tacos or not, at least you remember your dreams! I wake up most mornings and have NO clue what I dreamt of.
So I salute your three chicken tacos!
Go for it, and write if it makes you feel good. I look forward to reading!
Three chicken tacos sounds like the best dream ever. I've decided to live that dream this evening.
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