These days I’ve been writing – a lot. Writing in my own name. Writing for other people. Editing people’s writing. Filling up comment boxes about how terrible an argument is or that, yet again, you must spell out all acronyms and abbreviations at their first instance. If my kids have learned anything about me, it is that Mama is always writing.
I write journal entries for each of them, telling them what they’re up to and the ways the world is spinning. I expect that when they’re older they’ll want to know what their childhood was like and this will serve that purpose. We all know that I can’t remember anything unless it is written down, so this is a preventative measure to assure them that I was a present and attentive parent, even though I won’t be able to remember it by the time they’re adults.
And that’s what I want to chat about – all the things we miss. The moments we had but we forget. The bits of context we all leave behind to try to craft a linear story that has a packaged end. We’re all wrapped up in getting it right that we often miss the plot.
I’ve been missing this writing space… this one is unique among all the others with my byline. You all don’t edit me. You barely even respond. You don’t critique my grammar – though I really could use someone who does. And in your silence you’ve helped me develop my craft so profoundly. I have developed and destroyed a writing practice through this medium. I pitch stories – to myself – before I share them with editors. I discovered that I have word slippage, a very common affliction among multilingual speakers. And I’ve discovered the beauty of rereading and editing a piece online – as if nothing ever happened. You’ve taught me to be fearless, ya’ll. How to say things and try new stuff and delete good writing for the sake of better writing.
So, I just wanted to say that I miss you.
I’m not quite sure what there is to miss, exactly, because I’ve been deep in the practice of sharing my thoughts elsewhere. But, this blogging thing is hella fun and scary safe, and semi-anonymous and very exposed. It feels like being a naked avatar…
I hope we can bring that ole’ thing back. Pick up where we left off. Me saying things. You reading things. Us crushing on each other through a screen and ignoring each other in public. Let’s do that. And never leave each other’s side.
existabovethenoise 