If Heaven had a flavor ... it would be coffee.

Monday, February 20, 2012

Pie In My Brother's Eye

     Just before plunking down to write this post I had to quickly get myself a fresh cup of coffee. I get excited when an idea pops in my head for a post and I never know when it'll happen.  I'm not sure I've told you this before, but I have never written a single blog post without being absolutely transfixed on writing it, totally inspired to the point that I would not be able to sleep tonight if I did not get these words down.  Never earthshaking, at times humorous, always revealing.  I will never sit in front of my computer screen and, "Hmmm, I wonder what I should write?"  My blog is inspiration, a total joy, an extension of my childhood in fact.  As a young girl I was unable to sleep at night unless I had first spent valuable sleeping hours writing poetry.  By the time I graduated high school I had accumulated boxes upon boxes of poetry - never planning on doing anything with them, except adding to them.  I lacked a good deal of sleep in high school due to this obsessive need.  I often do now as a result as well.  

It recently occurred to me that perhaps my blogging needs are a result of being stifled by brothers that often had me feeling as though anything I had to say needed to be said fast because it wasn't that interesting.  Mean spirited, I know, but that's what brothers are for - to make you stronger.  One brother in particular recently told me how much he enjoyed my blog.  I thought it was a joke, honestly.  He stressed how much he liked it - every. single. post.  I was embarrassed and dumbfounded all at once.  My siblings are incredible story tellers.  They can turn a single action of their day into an adventure that keeps you on the edge of your seat for an hour without fabricating a single detail, and they often do.  It is an art, a chance to take center stage amidst 5 others competing.  I was too self - aware, too unsure to think any thing I had to say could possibly make anyone want to actually listen beyond 2 minutes.  My brothers made it clear that the stage was not for me. 

Even to this day I rush myself when telling a story to family or friend.  I fear boredom, inattentiveness, snoring. Blogging is my voice.  My "I have something to say!"  My thoughts and feelings run deep.  They run in my head like plays on a stage.  They nag to be put down complete with a beginning and an end.  And if I'm lucky, sometimes those words are read by people like yourself.  All the way to the end.

Each and every time I hit the "publish post" button I hesitate and cringe just a little.  Who might read this?  What will they think?  I often think of going back and deleting some older posts, but I resist out of obligation to you the reader.  From the start I said that I would be completely honest, open, and revealing.  I write for me, but often wonder about you.  Like the poetry - if I didn't have an audience, I would still write.  But knowing you are there, reading, makes it a little bit sweet.  A little bit scary.  Kinda like pie in my brother's eye.  : o)

I've never considered myself an artistic person though I play the clarinet and guitar, create recipes, love photography, and as mentioned earlier - write poetry and blog.  I suppose because none of these things have ever brought me a dime - I consider them unoriginal.  I often think about starting a catering company, becoming a restaurant reviewer complete with photos, giving clarinet lessons, or publishing my own cookbook.  Perhaps it's time to stop listening to my childhood brothers and attempt a couple of those dreams.  You never know, someone may listen.  

Carl Jung said, "The creation of something new is not accomplished by the intellect but by the play instinct acting from inner necessity.  The creative mind plays with the objects it loves."  I couldn't agree more.

Have a great time being creative!