my agenda

It's amazing what a compliment will do. I mean, come on. I haven't posted on this blog since June. Of 2009!!! And then a friend posts this on my facebook page:
I miss your blog. You write like unicorns ride rainbows - magically.
And that's all it took.

I've thought about jumping in from time to time and posting a photo or writing a winding, babbling narrative to no one's amusement but my own. I write like a bar fly talks. Without direction, without agenda, without anyone truly listening. So, to that end, I haven't been as compelled to write. Like giving up my stool belly up to the bar in favor of mixing drinks behind it. Facebook is partly to blame. One line status updates are so. damn. easy. Quick hits of nitrous in a restaurant walk-in versus the slow warming buzz of a nice bottle of wine.

So why write? No one's paying attention. I may never earn a dime from it. I may never see my words published. I may never even get a high five for the weaving together of words. They don't hold water. They're not tangible. So why should I write? I'm beginning to understand. I think.

I write because I love it. I really really love it. Words are beautiful, expandable, sensual, delicious, intimidating, convincing, heart-wrenching, compelling and often flat-out stupid (like "pianist" -- whoever decided it would be pronounced pee-nist instead of pee-AH-nist, you are silly, and I like the cut of your jib).

I also love to sing. I've never been great at it. You won't find me draped across a baby grand, decked out in a slinky black nothing of a dress crooning Cry Me A River to an audience of dashing couples who buy each other cufflinks and Jaguars for Christmas. But every single night I sing my daughter to sleep. And when I put on music it is 99% of the time something that I love to sing. I very seldom mind it when a song is stuck in my head. Annoying to those around me? Absolutely. I'll hum Bad Romance all dang day. I'll channel Patsy Cline on my drive in to work and Brandi Carlisle on my way home. And yet the last time I went out to karaoke was at least 2 years ago, and who knows how many years before that.

And I love to dance. I don't really know how. And I don't dance in public. But I love it, and when taught, I don't suck at it (much).

These things that I love to do have been neglected. Why do we do this? Why do we neglect the things that we love to do? Why do we so often ignore that which makes our bodies tingle, our minds grow, and our spirits swell? Because we're not good enough at them? Because we can't make money off of them? Because they don't fit into a networking agenda of professional growth? And when I say 'why do WE do this', you know I'm just lumping the rest of the world into my own little conundrum. It makes it less lonely, to feel, for a moment, non-unique. Perhaps the rest of the world is doing what they love: climbing mountains when they want to feel high, writing novels when they want to be heard, salsa dancing when they want to be held.

But you know. What I really think is that most people really aren't doing the things they love, even on a non-committal-purely-for-enjoyment level. And that's quite sad. Not like unicorns on rainbows at all. More like this guy.


krisha said…
Totally unicorns riding rainbows. I hope it keeps up - if you want it to :o)
Anonymous said…
I miss dancing, in class, dance class that is. And I miss sleeping in, naps when you feel like it...and having extra money to eat out all the time. love the pic! magic that you found it!

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