On Writing While Away
September 18, 2014 § Leave a comment
I love written notes. I love them for their practicality and purpose. I love them because I’m used to them. Some I save (one from mom on Christmas morning, circa 2008: “Santa’s helper wants to sleep for X amount of time.” posted at the staircase), some read once, others repeatedly, or replaced, or thrown away. Doesn’t matter. What matters is that the act of writing is, at least for me, an unbreakable habit. And it’s a good one. Here is a message. Remember it. Plain and simple.
Which brings me to my next point: there are always going to be things to be reminded of. And they can’t all be written down. We sometimes cling. We sometimes ignore. We pick and we choose. Which is pretty much why we write in the first place. To chisel away the marble as best we can, hoping whatever face underneath can eventually be put on display but not touched. And here (this particular platform), here is where I go after I’ve written in a three-dimensional journal, a legal pad dedicated to lists and foreign language scribbles, through iphone inbox/notepad, emails, etc. What surfaces here are echoes of the most important, most exciting, most sentimental things as I encounter them. I don’t need them to be anything else.
Which brings me to my actual point: I’m afraid of brag blogging. I do not want to brag. I have just written a paper note saying, “Do not brag,” which will nuzzle itself into a pile of other reminders like “stop apologizing so often,” and “turn light on for baby chicks,” and “email grandma”. But when I post something like Last Saturday I walked to Spain I semi-cringe realizing whatever pride/excitement in doing so is overshadowed by boastfulness. Which is never the blogger’s, or writer’s, or person-doing-something’s point. There is a difference between writer and reader, but I do not want that difference to be a disconnect. Mostly, I do not want these messages to be lost in translation. I am in Berenx one more week then I’m traveling elsewhere. I am relentlessly grateful. I am proud of my experiences because I worked hard in order to have them. I was taught to appreciate a good thing when I see it. I feel encouraged to write the good things down. I’m not at all sorry for that.