For as long as I can remember, I have had a conversation going on in my head. With whom I am not sure; it's not like it's me and another me. It's just a conversation of pros and cons, thoughts, advice, encouragement, opinions, criticism, observations and the like. I have always thought that it occurs in everyone. Recently, I am not so sure about that. Regardless, it is there. Always there in my head.
Which brought me to a diary, when I was younger. The kind with the little lock and key, and a matching pen with a loop to hold it. And you mostly wrote about things in school, on the playground or boys you liked or didn't like or who said what to whom about whomever. By college, I began journaling in notebooks and on envelopes , napkins and odd scraps of paper with blank space, that I kept in the notebooks. Seasonally, I would say: I was more committed to it during the winter months, less in the summer when the outdoors and the beach called. I have kept these diaries and journals, and envelopes full of words, and sometimes, privately, I go back to them. Reading & re-reading them, grounds me sometimes. Journals became less and less as life became more full. College, graduate school, research, jobs, kids, husbands, alcohol, drugs, all of it. And there was less and less time in my life to record my thoughts and observations. Each year always starts out more frequent in the early months, and then weeks without comments, followed by a more dedicated approach as the year end nears to a close. Altho intermittent, there is a spattering of those journals, envelops and scraps of paper writings, enough to keep a thread to my life. So, now it seems natural to come to blogs.
My work puts me at a keyboard more often than is probably good or even necessary. But blogging seems a good fit now that my life is slowing down - somewhat. My work is still bustling along, always writing, researching, following directions, researching, creating, editing, submitting, waiting. Waiting. For triumph or setback, failure. And then again, and again. It's an annual calendar, with a rythmn; made easier by a system. So I have become a system at work, making it mundane on some level; bringing rythmn on another. Allowing for an expectation, a preparation and more time for such things as this. Blogging.
So all I want to accomplish is a place for my comments. A place of record. For that conversation, never-ending conversation, within me. A place to leave my thoughts, and what/who I am. Which is that conversation inside my head. My rantings. And my ravings. Those rants and raves of a woman who has lived an interesting, and sometimes challenging, but never boring life. So, welcome to anyone who might want follow along, as it all unravels in a blog. Yes, welcome to my rants and raves.
Which brought me to a diary, when I was younger. The kind with the little lock and key, and a matching pen with a loop to hold it. And you mostly wrote about things in school, on the playground or boys you liked or didn't like or who said what to whom about whomever. By college, I began journaling in notebooks and on envelopes , napkins and odd scraps of paper with blank space, that I kept in the notebooks. Seasonally, I would say: I was more committed to it during the winter months, less in the summer when the outdoors and the beach called. I have kept these diaries and journals, and envelopes full of words, and sometimes, privately, I go back to them. Reading & re-reading them, grounds me sometimes. Journals became less and less as life became more full. College, graduate school, research, jobs, kids, husbands, alcohol, drugs, all of it. And there was less and less time in my life to record my thoughts and observations. Each year always starts out more frequent in the early months, and then weeks without comments, followed by a more dedicated approach as the year end nears to a close. Altho intermittent, there is a spattering of those journals, envelops and scraps of paper writings, enough to keep a thread to my life. So, now it seems natural to come to blogs.
My work puts me at a keyboard more often than is probably good or even necessary. But blogging seems a good fit now that my life is slowing down - somewhat. My work is still bustling along, always writing, researching, following directions, researching, creating, editing, submitting, waiting. Waiting. For triumph or setback, failure. And then again, and again. It's an annual calendar, with a rythmn; made easier by a system. So I have become a system at work, making it mundane on some level; bringing rythmn on another. Allowing for an expectation, a preparation and more time for such things as this. Blogging.
So all I want to accomplish is a place for my comments. A place of record. For that conversation, never-ending conversation, within me. A place to leave my thoughts, and what/who I am. Which is that conversation inside my head. My rantings. And my ravings. Those rants and raves of a woman who has lived an interesting, and sometimes challenging, but never boring life. So, welcome to anyone who might want follow along, as it all unravels in a blog. Yes, welcome to my rants and raves.
I need to clarify my opening paragraph. I do not hear voices. (LOL)
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