Sunday, September 1, 2013

starting proper

Way back in April when I started this blog, I waxed philosophical about the reason I had always found it relatively challenging to maintain an online writing presence.  I mentioned something then that's been on my mind lately:
"[When I'm blogging] I can't write for myself, as I might write poetry or a story -- if I were to do that in a blog format, I might as well be writing a diary."
I've been thinking about this idea of writing for myself.  I think that it means writing what I want to write, without worrying about what my audience might want to read.  But I'm not sure that's what I thought it meant back in April.

Whatever it meant, I've essentially ignored it in the course of keeping this blog.  The subject matter hasn't always been as diverse as I'd originally anticipated, but that doesn't bother me.  I've deliberately cast aside concern for what you might want to read, and it's been very freeing.  Does it limit my audience?  I don't care.  I write for the joy in it; if it brings joy to others, that's great.  But I can't ever be happy if I'm constantly checking my words to make sure they're in the proper shape for someone else to enjoy.

(Which isn't to say that I don't care that you read this.  It means a lot to me!  But I won't stop writing if you stop reading.  Sorry if you were under the impression that your attention was crucial to my self-worth.)

There's a certain sense of freedom that comes with writing whatever you want, and I'm going to need it.  For the month of September, I'm attempting to write a blog post every day.  They won't all be pages-long treatises on the metaphysical realities of the world, but I definitely don't want there to be any single-liners, either.  I expect that I'll be covering a broad swath of topics.  I expect that it'll be grueling.  I expect that it'll also be tremendous fun.  I'm doing this in concert with a friend of mine, Vicky, whose blog you can follow at http://laiv-wire.blogspot.com.  Hers is about crafts, mainly, and consequently is much less full of itself than my blog.  Enjoy.

Often, life serves us something other than what we planned for, or thought we wanted.  Today, my wife and I planned to go see a movie with my coworker and his wife.  However, when we reached the movie theater, it was sold out.  Instead, we went and got lunch; that lunch featured one of the most interesting, funny, and thoughtful conversations I've had in years, and it covered all sorts of subjects!  If we'd seen that movie, we never would have had that conversation.  I'm sure the movie would have been a great time, too...but a different sort of great time.  It's not worth dwelling on whether it would have been better or worse; there's no determining that.  But it is worth being thankful that, even when things don't go the way you expected (or hoped), there are other options.

You've read this far.  You deserve a treat.  Yes you do!  Yes you do!  So, the first scene of the play I'm writing, as yet unnamed:

(Scene:  A brightly lit hospital waiting area.  TODD sits in a chair next to his FATHER.)

TODD’S FATHER:  (praying) …full of grace.   Blessed art thou among women.  Blessed is the fruit of thy womb…

TODD:  Dad, what are you doing?

TODD’S FATHER:  It’s…it’s the Hail Mary, son.  It’s a prayer to the Holy Mother.

TODD:  Are you praying for Mom?

TODD’S FATHER:  Yes.  Why don’t you join me?

TODD:  I don’t want to.  I don’t like it when it hails.

(TODD’S FATHER starts crying.  TODD grows antsy.  He gets out of the chair and walks to a nearby door.  The door is shut in his face.)

TODD:  Dad…can I go to the bathroom?

TODD’S FATHER:  (still crying) Go ahead, son.  You know where it is.

TODD:  Dad...is mom going to be ok?

TODD’S FATHER:  I’m sure she’ll be fine if you come pray with me.

TODD:  Why don’t we go to the store and get her some medicine?

TODD’S FATHER:  Todd, come sit next to me.

(TODD sits.)

TODD’S FATHER:  Todd, do you remember the story I read you about the little boy who went to another world?

TODD:  Which one?

TODD’S FATHER:  The one…the one where he had to get medicine.  His dog was sick.  Remember?

TODD:  OH!  ‘Lonnie in Tippery!’

TODD’S FATHER:  Yes.  Do you remember how it ended?

TODD:  Lonnie couldn’t find the medicine.  His dog had to…go away.

TODD’S FATHER:  That’s right.  Your mom…she might have to go away, too.

TODD:  But…why don’t we just go to Tippery?

TODD’S FATHER:  We tried, Todd.  But like Lonnie…we couldn’t find it.

TODD:  (stands up) You didn’t ask me to help!  I can find it!  Lonnie didn’t get lost, there were too many things in his way and he gave up!  I won’t give--

(TODD’S FATHER reaches for TODD.  TODD steps back.)

TODD’S FATHER:  Todd, it’s too late.  Just sit with me and pray.  It’s all we can do.

TODD:  No!  I can find Tippery!  I know the way!


(TODD runs off.)

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