it seems especially a propos in light of today’s news of another plane crash in New York City. this afternoon, at the end of the workday, there was a phone call, and a web of conversations, and then “plane” and “New York” and the internal echo of oh, shit, not again.
(side note: we all jumped on the web to check our favorite news sites, which reported things reasonably accurately. then i hopped over to wiki dot org to see who the person in question might be. it was not a little ghoulish and a lot freaky that within 30 minutes of the story breaking, the wiki article had been updated with his at that point suspected but unconfirmed death, and listed it as fact.)
anyway, back to all about me. *sardonic grin*
lately, and more frequently, my posts here are focused on what comprises my daily life. and that focus is smaller and smaller these days. my life, it seems, takes place more often than not in a 5 mile square plot of land. and the players, generally, are the boys in my life – my hubby and my kid.
and i’ve struggled with this. part of it is learning and creating the roles that i take in that venue. mom, wife, volunteer, library coordinator, employee, friend – and balancing this with how to keep up with the people i’ve known for years. hell, chica and i used to talk every damn night. now? weeks between calls sometimes, because we’re both in different places than 10 years ago (hallelujah, for some of the changes, because we’re both in healthier places, but i still miss her calls, and bemoan my lack of calling skills…).
more than that, in terms of writing… i struggle with the idea that it’s all about me here. right, yes, my space, all that jazz… but. it seems that, if you choose to publish your life and your opinion in a public place, it’s not all that different than contributing to a newspaper or magazine. on one level, publishing your own site/views is a form of public media, and there are both rights and obligations that go with that.
on the other hand, what i just wrote is just so much bullshit. old ideas of media don’t necessarily apply to what we create every day, building our own personal presences on the ‘net. and the idea of obligation? basta. early on, there was the whole ‘am i a journaller or am i a blogger?’ angst. in hindsight, who cares?
and then… well, here’s the thing. i do read the news every damn day. and i do have opinions. the recent massacre of Amish students struck a deep chord for me… of all people, of all the targets, children, and children in a society that is deeply and intentionally pacifist… and the anniversary of 9/11… most of us in the Northeast knew at least one person who died that day. but what did i post on 9/11? something sappy, and that’s all i know. you’d never know, from this site, that i spent any part of the day in observation of the anniversary.
but i can’t really bring myself to write about headlines. for fuck’s sake – i wrote about some comment that Rumsfeld made a few years back, and how i thought he was *clever*. this, btw, was before i figured out what a cold hearted fucker he is. and so, if my comments are only so much air, and my public angst makes no difference… why write about it?
the entire question comes down to self-imposed standards and expectations, of course. it seems sort of facile to be even writing about this internal debate, but there you go. i suppose, in some way, this is my mea culpa, my disclaimer, and my raison d’etre all smushed into one.
no clever punch line, just… been thinking about why i write what i write, and thinking about the fact that it’s okay that it’s all personal.
and so here’s my question to you: why do you write? post a comment, drop a note… would love for you to share what your motivations are.
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