It’s so funny how i’ve been writing my entire life and i’ve never really gotten any better. I don’t know why I was thinking about writing this morning… well… not writing anything in particular but just reflecting back over the years of me writing. Some things never change lol. These are all recycled thoughts. Nothing new or interesting. Not even mildly amusing.
I’ve been writing since forever and journaling since I was about 8 but, when I was a young teen, I decided that writing was the only way I could really express how I truly feel. When it comes to arguing a point about something or explaining a subject or topic of interest, I did really well. But when it came to actually expressing my deepest thoughts or my real feelings, I would always spit out a mess of words that I would later have to defend, explain, or apologize for. I never made sense. I was never good at expressing my feelings. For one, I wasn’t able to dominate a conversation. I was always very, very submissive. I felt that other people’s feelings were more valid than mine because they could express them better than I could, therefor, they must have really thought things through…. and I was always so unsure. I felt so much that I didn’t really know how I felt at all. My teenage years were spent in a perpetual state of thinking of something clever I could have said like months after the occurrence happened. That’s what I did. You should have said this, you should have left that part out, that wasn’t the right word or there was a better word, now you look like an idiot. So I started writing letters to people. Sometimes I would even give those letters to their intended target. But, usually, the letters weren’t for them, at all. It was just a way for me to get it out in writing so that I could know how I really felt. It’s like I had no idea how I felt until the pen actually hit the paper. I’d write like a crazed lunatic, not stopping for a break, just writing pages upon pages of thoughts I didn’t even really know I had about them or the situation. Ask me to explain it verbally and it would be pretty much impossible. I’d choke. Avoid eye contact. Either over-exaggerate over-simplify e-v-e-r-y-t-h-i-n-g. No in-between. I feel so uncomfortable talking about how I feel. For one, I feel like…… idk…. kind of narcissistic? Maybe? Like no matter what I could possibly say, to me, it always sounds like, “Me me me me me I me I me my wah wah wah”.
For two, I have always felt, and still kind of do, that….. deep down…. people don’t actually really care. Like, unless you’re singing a song they want to hear, they’re tuning you out. Everything is filler until it gets to their chorus. Yes, I still believe that. No one listens to understand. It is rare that you find someone with which you can have an honest exchange of thoughts and ideas, an effortless flow of information in which both parties are actively participating. No one matches your effort. The scales are almost always uneven. People only ever care about the part that is visible to them. If they didn’t see it, hear it, feel it, experience it, believe it, or remember it— it doesn’t exist. And I hate wasting my time more than anything. I just don’t have the patience for it. When I talk to people, I feel like i’m in an echo chamber. That’s why I write, honestly. It’s when I can finally get a word (or 3000) in. Most of what I write are things I either can’t or won’t put out there in a normal conversation. Either because i’m uncomfortable, it’s inappropriate, unnecessary, not for others to know, or I know i’d just be wasting their (or my) time. Didn’t mean to rant like this but I just find it amusing, now. Remembering sitting in a tree, wild hair, no shoes, writing in my journal…. and now, 33, wife and mother, throwing back cups of coffee like nobody’s business, pounding away at a keyboard. I wonder if i’ll still be doing this when i’m 80 lol. “Kevin, i’m locking myself in my office and writing. Do not disturb.” hahaha. Or the hand. The infamous “throw the hand up to silence them and keep typing with the other” lol. Meh. Nbd.
I have been sharing more and more about the kids’ conversations on Facebook. I honestly think my kids are some of the most interesting, hilarious people ever. The things I overhear when they think i’m not listening…. it’s gold lol. So I was thinking about buying a big, blank journal and a nice pen (niiiiiceeeee pennnnnnsssss. ink flowing. mouth watering.) and making a book for them. Just a collection of all of my observations of them over the years. I’ve been using Facebook as sort of a journal for my kids because I love when the memories pop up and I see things the did years ago. But I think it would be a really special gift for them to have and cherish. So, that’s what i’m going to do. If you have kids, start writing down the things they say. My kids LOVE looking back over conversations and blurbs from the past. My parents didn’t save many memories of me from childhood so i’m kind of manic about capturing moments of my kids. Relying on your own memory is a really bad idea lol.
Anyway. Vayda is having a friend stay the night so it’s time to go clean the house like a maniac.