Perhaps I should ease back into posting on a lighter note? Talk about my failure as a Guitar Hero? The joys of mint tea? My football obsession, superstitions, and weekly rituals? Bill’s obsession with Rachael Ray? (I didn’t know who she was until he began pointing her out, and I still couldn’t pick her out of a line up.) Epiphanies regarding one’s own doughnut hole existence, musings on the free speech debate (which I intentionally left out big name users, abusers, and cases, to avoid ending up on some watch group’s phish list), or my pop warner psychoanalysis of Lily’s latest bad dream don’t create that gooey cream filled center feeling I hope to inspire.
No? Not buying that?
Okay.
Maybe I’m not interested in making people feel like pastries. It’s also not my intention to recreate that feeling you had after eating mystery left overs.
It’s been pointed out I repeated or, as I explained to the friend who pointed it out, unnecessarily reiterated how assbackwards it feels to have those I care about read me to understand me, when for so long this avenue wasn’t available. It’s akin to having a pre-scripted conversation in which you get my lines, but I don’t get yours, just tomorrow’s reviews and notes detailing areas needing improvement and things I can do to tweak my technique. Yes, I’ve mentioned this in previous posts. And no, I’m not blind to my hypocrisy - I use this space to scold (communicate) with others for using this space to listen (communicate) - or foolish enough to deny I’m easier to read than talk to. All my thoughts, ideas and sentences are finished, as complete as I’m going to get them at the time I click publish. You don’t have to watch me think. You don’t have to wait while I choose my words, or look for them in my scattered brain. You don’t have to deal with my physical presence, nor I yours. Few people put me at ease. Most of you make me tense. People who put me at ease don’t like me when I’m around people who make me tense.
So… While you don’t get the whole picture, or specific details, when you read my posts, typically I write them when I’m alone, comfortable, in control of my universe. At ease. It’s harder to hold up the wall when I’m laughing. If I’m repeating myself, saying “don’t look for me here”, I’m “protest[ing] too much” methinks. It’s possible I started this page to hide, got lonely and tossed out a few bread crumbs so my friends would find me. They found me, responded to Lily the writer in ways they never did Lily the person, so I stopped posting. [insert huh?] I found a better way to communicate with people I care about and stopped? Why the leap from logic? Because Lily the person is a mess, lacks an on-board spell checker, and endless supply of sexy fonts to parade around in, each day a new set of curves, angles, peaks - yet always the same, stable, strong character. I don’t get to publish edits in real life, don’t get to go back, erase everyone’s memory, and say the right thing, the funny, witty, charming, helpful, not-so-bitchy, less destructive thing. I have to live in my body, deal with its weaknesses and limitations, its history and dreams. You’ll never see a single word I write, then erase. If I speak it, if you hear it, you own it. Not as much fun. But more honest.
I’d rather be the woman I write about. Or one of my characters. Let me be someone I make up - for a day or forever - and all this business of worrying about who reads and writes between the lines won’t matter. If I get to live as Lily the writer, I’ll simply write unsympathetic antagonists out of the story. But, I do that now, don’t I?
Anxiety over why I do what I do is the cornerstone of my character. I need a new cornerstone, methinks.
I really suck at Guitar Hero. Who knew that was possible. I’m not as bad as I was, but did you know you can actually fail the tutorial? It’s true.
The name of my band?
Oops
Keep on rockin’ in the free world.
I’ve got more to say about the doughnut hole thing. But another day.
Praise and Blame