The other day, in a moment of silliness, I invited readers of my weekly vignette to fire questions at me -- and in a moment of even greater silliness, even agreed to answer some of them. Yes, questions were fired at me and I think I will have fun addressing some of them. But the question above perked my synapses out of their normal dormancy and I want to try to answer this one now.
The lovely, talented, and passionate Nance asked the question, and I can understand why she asked it. Like many of us, she has strong political and moral feelings, and many times uses her blog to eloquently express them. Her blog, 'Mature Landscaping' is witty and many times fervent and you would do well to pick your arguments with her carefully, for as a retired psychotherapist....she knows what you are thinking.
Now to answer the question.
On a weekend day I enter a playroom around 4:30 or so in the morning. The room is full of toys, fuzzy things, blocks, lego erector sets, pieces of multi-textured cloth, pillows, scraps of paper -- just stuff. Neat stuff. Imaginary stuff. Sometimes I enter the room and sit on the floor and stare around for a moment and sigh...and get up and leave -- for all I see is just stuff.
Then I enter at the same time the next morning. Sometimes when this happens everything looks different and I see a wonderworld filled with adventure. I start grabbing and pulling things together and then turn them upside down or turn them inside out or throw things against the wall and see how they will land. My greatest joy is discovering something that can be seen in a new or quirky way. Sometimes I will take a piece of a thought-rug and run my fingers across the nap and feel the texture and pull out a magnifying glass and study it deeper.
Am I suggesting that I sit down at four-thirty in the morning to create a symphony? Of course not. But invariably at the conclusion of writing something I muse on is the texture, feeling, and harmonics (those side feelings evoked that move you or make you chuckle). Many times my conclusion is, "Oh well". Other times it is "Holy hell, I actually created something."
I need to answer Nance's question directly. I do not write a blog every week. I go and play every week, twisting and tweaking, and get silly, and pull up remembrances, and think of lessons I have learned and present them in unusual ways. I do this for me. This is my entertainment -- I want to have fun with weaving words and simply entertain myself. Then I share them on my blog.
My motivations are completely different. The only deadline I have is the desire for fun accomplishment. Sure I keep in mind that others are going to read it but I write more because I want to read it and react with a smirk, a chuckle, or a "Oh wow!". I look forward to my little time in my play room.
|The Fun Desk|
And this leads me to my last thought. The name of my blog is 'Gently Said' and that it not by accident. If you were to see the title of a song called, "When Sunny Gets Blue" you know pretty much the mood of the song you are going to hear. The same is true when you see the title of my blog. Even on those rare times that I tackle controversial subjects such as Blowin' in the Wind (which addressed what I consider the folly of wind power), I try to do so with humor and always honor opposing opinions.
I enjoy writing immensely and it is a fun adventure. I don't confront a deadline of blog writing. I write simply for the joy of it about once a week and then post it for your perusal, abusal and refusal.