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Friday, August 4, 2017

A Soft Hum

You know why I love the mountains? 
Because they are quiet. 
Do you know why I love the beach in the morning hours? 
Because it is quiet.

This world is so loud. I've learned to let it just be noise, to be background. Unexpected noises make me jump. I hate using or hearing car horns. I avoid it at all costs. And press lightly when I feel I have to. Timid. Because I don't want to startle others... or myself, really. But the point is to be startled into action.

Growing up in a small house I tiptoed around. Not wanting to break the balance. And it wasn't to scare or creep up on unsuspecting siblings. It was only to avoid breaking the background hum. I became a master at the art of slipping around with minimal noise. I learned all the unique door squeaks and the person walks on the floor. Mind you, most of the time this was carpeted floor. I was that detailed in my trained hearing. 

I often notice the air conditioning switching on at work. I take note when the music changes at a coffeeshop. This morning, I heard the rain falling before seeing the splattered raindrops on the windshield.

I become in tune when the world has a soft hum. 

*written while construction rages at the office*

Wednesday, July 26, 2017

Used to

You know things are changing. In fact they seems to be in a constant state of change. But we were made to adapt. And that is what I keep going after - that change is inevitable and let's embrace it. (embrace is my word for the year.)

I used to know all the cars in the parking lot. I used to know all the names of coworkers and things that made them unique. I used to know. 

And there was safety in that, which is not present in an ever evolving startup company. There was security in knowing about the people you work with. 

The cars in the parking lot have changed. Even the parking lot itself has changed, the building different. The things that you thought you knew about your coworkers, you find out that maybe you knew too much. Or maybe too little. 

This week we added three new cars to the parking lot. "My space" is no longer my parking space. 

I still know the names of the people around me, but small talk is reduced and the tidbits that make us unique don't come out as often, as much. 

I've started making up lives for the people around me, as I would strangers on the street. The game we used to play where the imagination runs wild. 

I used to know and there was comfort in that. I used to.

*written at the beginning of July 2017

Tuesday, June 20, 2017

On Writing

Hi friends!

I write drafts all the time, but I'm trying something new this time - a free write.

Over the years I've realized I want to be a writer, but I don't take the time to invest in practicing my writing. This week I'm sharing someone else's story written by another person entirely. The person who wrote the story did a wonderful job. As I read through it I could see the previous English teacher seep through. I could tell, this woman, she loves to write.

This last weekend I met another previous English teacher and as we were talking, I kept looking at her and going, Yes, I see it. You are a writer.

Isn't it crazy that we separate people into those who can write and are 'writers' and those who can not? I often put myself in the "can not camp." Really, I can write. I can write, but it needs refinement. {Ironic, considering this is a free write.}

And I've learned that I like that there are rules, but I can't figure out all the rules. It's something that is similar to American football to me. I know there are rules, I know others are aware of them and follow them. But I can't quite seem to figure them out. 

And then there is the creative. That I can do. What I want to convey, that I can work on. I can wordplay with. When I 'edit' I often am editing for content and context.

My dad on the other hand, grammar and writing rules are his forte {he could tell me every error in this post}. On high school papers {and even some college} he would say, that together our brains would write excellently. He gets tripped up by the creative and the content, I by the grammar and the spelling.

At one point my coworker and I had a conversation about my desire to write in simple terms - better. And he took it on as his mission to the point where he gave me the book On Writing. I've been scared of what I view as my own incompetence and I've yet to read it.

That which is our weakness is where we have the most space for improvement. I can't promise more practice, but I do hope to spend a little more time here on the blog. I've even started writing more letters and finding more space to journal. I hope that it is the start of something.