Why Not 2 Blogs

You sit with me. Basking in the sunlight like cats, we chat among these overstuffed pillows. It’s quiet, and we don’t have to worry about what people want us to be here…

The idea of having two blogs seems like a bad idea. I think. What do you think? It’s a bit like choosing to babysit two kids when you could choose to babysit one, right?

Why would anyone do that? Like, can you hear the thought process?

“Why babysit one kid when I get the opportunity to babysit two…”

I fall silent while you sip your cuppa, staring at me.

I know. I know.

It’s twice the work. Twice the photos. Twice the typing. Twice the words. Twice isn’t as good as one, right? I mean, unless we’re talking food items that we love. Brownies. Mochi. Pizza. Mom’s casserole…

I pull on a string on my hoodie sleeve.

Compelled. Trapped? Pushed. Yeah, that’s the word: pushed. I feel pushed to try it. And if it’s a complete disaster, it will be a good fail, huh?

I mean, it’s like that one time I was obsessed with drawing anime. You know what anime is, right?

You nod slowly.

Anime was the first art form I fell in love with as a home-schooled kid. I’d never seen anything as expressive as the big eyes, slender bodies, and hair that defies gravity.

I give a short laugh.

Nowadays, I’m older and know of lots of art forms, but anime and manga still hold a special place in my heart… But yeah. I was always trying to draw those Sailor Moon eyes right. Gundam Wing hair. Well. I was pushed inside. Internally, I just couldn’t stop trying to get it right.

I scrunch up my nose in disgust as I recall.

Oh, so many fails… There wasn’t enough pencil eraser to help some of those early pages…

But there was one day when I got it right. The hair, the eyes, even the shine spots on the character’s eyes…

Success. Aaaaaahhh.

It felt great.

Then I wondered why I didn’t attempt more.

You know why, right?

Yeah. Fear.

You nod.

Not trying is safer. Not caring… No “giving it a go,” no “what a mess,” no “well that didn’t work.”

Let’s be honest, Friend. That same fear is why I don’t try today as an adult.

You take another sip of your cuppa during my pause.

Remove fear, and what have I got left? Just a big, fat why not?

And that big, fat why not? has some exhilarating emotions packed inside it. Kind of like when you get a new, blank journal. Or you’re sitting in a theater waiting to see the next movie in a trilogy you love… It’s like, potential expectation. Or a baby delight at what could be. Makes a person giddy to rush in. Are you like that?

I stare at you, scanning your features, wondering.

You don’t have to answer.

This is a safe place to decide to not say anything.

I stretch in the sunlight’s warmth.

Well, I guess I’ll give it a try. Two blogs will be a small adventure. I’m usually not up for that kind of adventure, but, again: pushed.

We’ll see.

by Tags: , Leave a comment

When The Care is Too Much

Driscol dratterhanans.

Today, I stopped my car as I lazily left the neighborhood seeking dinner nibs, to climb out and yell down the street at a teen boy. He’d been following a teen girl… oddly. I hadn’t liked the look in his eyes, and in my rear windows caught him bending down, picking up a rock and throwing it at her.

I skooch over a little to make more room for you in the heavily-pillowed quiet area which we sit.

Let’s be real. My “Don’t throw rocks at girls!” exclamation complete with a hand on my hip didn’t rattle him. He grinned like a Cheshire cat and waved, gloating over the fact that I cared and was powerless to stop him…

This is why I’m here in my cozy corner with you, reminiscing the after-feels.

(Oh, do you want a cuppa? You sure? Just let me know. I’ve got hot cocoa, coffee, and eight types of tea. I don’t mind…)

So yeah. I’ll go over the thoughts I had after the exchange as we both burrow into these hoodies, pillows, and puffy comforters. (Sorry I keep it so cold in here. Helps me burrow better.)

Right. My thoughts as I was driving off.

Numero uno: I felt upset the guy was throwing rocks. My excuse for him? He probably liked her. Boys throw rocks at pretty girls. I mean, there’s a Tim Hawkins YouTube video on that. But why the violence? The idea that no one is looking, so it’s okay?

Which brought me to numero dos: Is bad parenting what we are all doomed to? I’m 35, married, and we just miscarried. Gratefully waves off your sympathies. But I pay attention, right? I don’t want to raise a rock-thrower-when-no-one’s-looking teenager. Yeah, they might grow out of it. But what if they don’t?

Burrows deeper.

Then numero tres: I’m an HSP. A “Highly Sensitive Person.” I assume you have some of that since you are sitting here with me. Smiles. I drove away feeling heavy. Heavy because I don’t like violence. But it can’t be escaped. I mean, unless I become hermitty surrounded by acres of land. Of course, giving up city plumbing would be a major stretch for me, so let’s keep that convo for another day, ‘kay? Point is, it’s on every screen, and in many entertainment forms. Even if an HSP is drastically cutting down the outside news flows in life, we are still surrounded by people who partake of the conflicty stuff we try to avoid.

It’s just.

Kinda.

Exhausting.

I guess that’s why I’m glad you stopped by today. Do you try to avoid this kind of stuff, or are you a braver soul than I? What do you think?

Listens for your response.

by Tags: , , Leave a comment