So I’m driving home from work the other night and my friend calls me. There is a gas station selling gas for $2.09 per gallon right now and I needed to go there immediately, regardless of the current fullness of my gas tank, and buy it. “Two-oh-nine, how could you pass that up?” So I tell my her that I’ll stop and hang up the phone and drive ahead and boy howdy, what do you know? There is the mall. And I think I need to go to the mall. Who needs cheap gas when there’s a Semi-Annual Sale going on?
But you didn’t know this about me, did you? Well not yet, anyway. Not until a week later. And if it hadn’t been for the several emails in the past week asking how I can “reveal so much” on my blog, you probably wouldn’t have known this. Which, as I read it myself, I’m sure is just fine with you. But people asked and me not answering a question asked several times over would be like not scratching a mosquito bite. IT ITCHES! Or, maybe more like putting a cheesecake on the counter and saying “Never eat this.” Then the only thing you’re thinking about is that cheesecake. And sure, there are so many other things going on: the blizzard outside, your new table being delivered, the delivery men being inexplicably hot with their Irish accents* and offering to mix you a drink, but still, there is that cheesecake on the counter. Cheesecake. Cheesecake. Cheesecake. Do you see what I mean?
So I have to answer the question. And the answer, it is a good one. I don’t really think I reveal that much. Deep, I know. But really, like the story about choosing low-priced underwear over low-priced gas, so many things happen in a life every day and not all of it can/will/should make it into a blog post. This may be a result of an over-active mind but I feel like on any given day, we’re probably talking about 2% of everything that we’re living or thinking on that day. Maybe less. (Now you all just happily ignore this when I spill my soul here later in the week, okay?)
Above that, though, I write because I like it. I write for silly and serious reasons, and the fact that someone reads it still really floors me. Like smack-me-and-call-me-Sally floors me. And I don’t know about you, but that connection with people is something I can’t seem to get over. It’s like your first taste of something you like, you know that once you’ve had it you can’t see not having it. I imagine that’s what live performers might feel like. You’re taking a risk, however calculated, putting yourself out there and hoping that maybe, just maybe, you’ll get something back. And then you get it back, and you feel like you aren’t crazy. You feel like maybe you’ve got something here that means something, with people that start to mean something to you, and it is really great. And because you’re human, and wanting more of a good thing is natural for you, you want more. You want to keep it going and make it better and get better at it because that’s what it’s all about: people. You, others, connections, relating- that is good stuff. To some I know this sounds weird, but to me it just makes a lot of sense.
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* Okay, that part didn’t really happen but I saw P.S. I Love You yesterday and right about now anyone could come along speaking in an Irish accent and I’d marry them on the spot. I’m such a sucker.
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