“You should write,” they said. That’s what they’ve always said.
OK, here goes.
I spend an inordinate amount of time ‘writing’ in my head. What I mean is, I don’t physically write anything down. But, I evaluate, contemplate, review, and, generally, try to make sense of everything that is happening around me. By everything, I mean everything. I have a constant running monologue in my head, where I try to encapsulate a summary, or a descriptive narrative, or a profound revelation about things that are happening.
It is exhausting to be me.
I do not think fast on my feet. If I have to make a presentation, or create an argument in favor of something, I spend hours practicing, turning the phrases, trying to come up with the best, or maybe most clever verbiage to make the point. I try the sentences out repeatedly, listening to how they sound, tweaking whatever needs to be tweaked. By the time I’m done, I have pretty well memorized what I want to say. Not that I make a lot of presentations. Thank goodness.
One time, in the car, I had a funny conversation with one of my teenaged daughters. We were driving on an hours-long trip, when I suddenly blurted out something along the lines of: “I think that I am really weird. Most people don’t do this, I know. I spend so much time inside my own head writing and rewriting stories, descriptions, anecdotes, and other things. Over and over, trying to capture the perfect depiction of my thoughts. It’s like I’m forever writing magazine articles or newspaper editorials with convincing, succinct information.” There was a pause. Then she said, “Yeah, that IS really weird.” We sat in silence, me having bared my soul to her. Minutes ticked by. Then she announced, “I don’t do it to write magazine articles; when I do it, it’s to make motivational speeches.” We looked at each other, then burst out laughing – kindred spirits!
As the decades rush by, I find myself to be even more reflective, trying to make sense of things that did happen, are happening, or will happen. Memory gets fuzzy sometimes. So fuzzy, I sometimes say “I don’t know--it either happened or it didn’t happen” when we reminisce on things with blurred details. And, I make no promises that things occurred the way I remember, because I realize that my memories may be enhanced by me or others. Anybody else wish they had access to Professor Dumbledore’s Pensieve? (For non-Harry Potter fans, it’s a device that holds past memory streams with all the original characters and conversations intact; memories which can then be recreated and explored.)
I guess I do my best to learn from the past, anticipate the future, and live in the present. And, I try to convince anyone who will listen, that my point of view, my perspective, my analysis of this crazy world we live in, is relevant. Not only that, but, my thoughts are profound and clever. No matter what issues my family is dealing with, writing helps me deal with life.
Now, excuse me, I have a lot to think about. I’m trying to come up with the most awesome and incredible name for a band, just in case I find myself joining a band or arbitrarily being asked to name one. Gotta get my creative juices flowing.
Later!