Purple
I get stuck.
I have all these thoughts. My post options run from trivial to less trivial. About the my son's coming birthday and the end of family's babyhood time, about the boob deflation, about the creepiness of preschool selection and the distateful work of plain old school selection. I am once again in touch with work though I will not be returning next month as my six month extension on mat leave has been approved.
There is a lot inside of me torn between a life, nay an identity, that is somehow to me more fulfilling but less meaningful...
Mostly I get stuck because there is this blog. Kate does me in. I get stuck writing over and over for I am silent in the brave, urgent, wise, feral nature of her blog. I mean this here; my blog. This is just a blog. But that is a BLOG. I cannot really write in the face of it. I think about the power of her words and the role of her blog in the torrents of ... of... words fail.. I think about how these things we write are like a planet constructed entirely of words somehow apart. How precious it must be to her to have the place to say it. To throw away the words that represent the feelings she can't necessarily say in some days at the hospital where her delicate premature boys grow or home with her little guy. To throw the words out to us readers who barely exist must do something? Each time I read I am wishing I can carry away a measure of the tension and make a day or a moment less.. less.. something for them. Sharing some sense of helplessness over tangible fate through the tenuous connection represented in a glowing pane of glass here at my machine.
Sorry to be so purple tonight. But it is largely true.
I have all these thoughts. My post options run from trivial to less trivial. About the my son's coming birthday and the end of family's babyhood time, about the boob deflation, about the creepiness of preschool selection and the distateful work of plain old school selection. I am once again in touch with work though I will not be returning next month as my six month extension on mat leave has been approved.
There is a lot inside of me torn between a life, nay an identity, that is somehow to me more fulfilling but less meaningful...
Mostly I get stuck because there is this blog. Kate does me in. I get stuck writing over and over for I am silent in the brave, urgent, wise, feral nature of her blog. I mean this here; my blog. This is just a blog. But that is a BLOG. I cannot really write in the face of it. I think about the power of her words and the role of her blog in the torrents of ... of... words fail.. I think about how these things we write are like a planet constructed entirely of words somehow apart. How precious it must be to her to have the place to say it. To throw away the words that represent the feelings she can't necessarily say in some days at the hospital where her delicate premature boys grow or home with her little guy. To throw the words out to us readers who barely exist must do something? Each time I read I am wishing I can carry away a measure of the tension and make a day or a moment less.. less.. something for them. Sharing some sense of helplessness over tangible fate through the tenuous connection represented in a glowing pane of glass here at my machine.
Sorry to be so purple tonight. But it is largely true.
Labels: blogging
posted by mo-wo at 9:43 p.m.
5 Comments:
I like purple.
And this post of yours is beautiful.
Oh, I know. Sometimes, I just feel like I'm blathering foolishly and why would anyone care? Sometimes, it's nice to immerse in the words and grow purple for a while.
What a nice problem to have - momentarily silenced by beauty.
(it may not be clear, but I mean this in the nicest way, and not to imply that I want you to be quiet.)
I'll take any colour I can get. Write on, MoWo.
Kate's blog is almost the first one I check each morning and evening.
There's nothing I can do to help her but still I read and leave a very short note.
Purple - of course I love purple. Take a look at my blog sometime. Not the content, the background.
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