There is, in me, a great desire and need to express, what I am thinking and feeling. Very often, what I write throws clarity on my feelings, far better than when I just ‘think’ it. I need to think for the idea, talk about it – usually to my son or my father and then I need to write it. It is only when it is written, that I am excorsised of that idea.
For a person who carries the chip of rejection on her shoulder, writing anywhere but on my blog is a risky affair. No one really reads this blog of mine, if the stats are any indication, but sometime down the line, I will…
Why not write in my own diary then? Well I have, and it can’t be searched, indexed, re-used and so forth… Plus sometimes, a rare visitor does walk in and leave me their thoughts in response to mine. That I think is wonderful!
Because perhaps no where are my thoughts and feelings as ‘true’ as they are here. There is no desire to effect any change on a potential reader only an attempt to soothe my own ruffled feelings.
When I write, ‘my inner self” , the layer between my image and my soul, which is hidden from society at large and even from my intellect comes to the fore. That is why people say I write from my heart. When I speak to you face to face, I speak from my very fine mind. You will rarely if never come anywhere near my vulnerable heart.
I am beginning to speak a little more from my heart of late, and in some cases it works very well indeed.
What’s preying on my feelings now, is that someone wanted permission to print one of my articles, I gave it to him and he is dead silent about it. I keep checking for a response, may be a Thank you, what a wonderful person you are, but nothing comes……
I am also sick of the typos I make and the time I lose in correcting them. This keyboard is clearly the wrong size compared to what I am used to….
There, it is said and I feel better. Blogging is therapeautic, I believe!
