Overthinking, Perhaps

I’ve noticed a change in tone recently with many of my essays. There has been a heaviness that perhaps isn’t usually part of what I write. There has been an emphasis on challenges and questioning. Also, “change” and “transition” seem to be repeating themes. I can’t remember when I’ve written about the media or politics. I haven’t devoted much time to being funny (which may have actually always been the case except for in my own mind), and I haven’t even used my children as heart-warming inspiration as often as usual. I realize that it’s the height of overthinking to be so carefully evaluating my own writing bent again. But, that’s not really what this mini-essay is about. Taking note of my own recent themes has made me think about authenticity and my desire to make transparency part of this writing experiment. It’s made me revisit the premise of EyeJunkie, examine its relevance again. Here’s what I’ve come up with.

Paying attention has been my theme from the beginning — becoming more deliberate, as Thoreau wrote, in how I approach life. It’s been my desire to explore how that plays out in real life. It’s been my goal to be awake through whatever experiences come my way and to use writing to keep my own heart close to the surface in that endeavor. It’s more a personal pursuit than a public service. But, paying attention doesn’t just apply to the warm fuzzies. The rich pageant of life involves ups and downs, pushes and pulls, comings and goings, ease and hardship. To refuse to pay attention in the down side or the waning side of experiences is to avoid a large portion of existence. And, it is to miss out on the great volume of wisdom that challenging circumstances can provide. To create a way of living and approaching life that can be sustained through good times and bad seems to be the only relevant pursuit. As I meld important areas of focus–things like faith or parenting or creating–into one life experience, the process is no good if it only applies to the happy times or the easy moments. The real grease that enables the gears is what I have the courage to experience fully and transparently during difficult times. That’s where the real denial of numbness and slumber finds its depth and sustaining power. And, I’ve come to the conclusion that EyeJunkie really wouldn’t be mine if I didn’t give the rainbow-free soul searching it’s rightful place in the “recent posts” column.

The Reason Behind the Reason

Today marks my two-year anniversary as a blogger. What a journey! This week, I’ve been thinking about the EyeJunkie adventure as it relates to my 2010 theme word, courage. Over the last few months, several friends and commenters on the site have made reference to openness and the courage required to express thoughts so transparently in this particular medium. Can you say world wide web? Emphasis on world. While I don’t necessarily see myself as courageous (hence the year-long posting pursuit), I do recognize that sharing one’s thoughts and life in any authentic way with the internet is not for the timid. It’s intimidating. It’s scary. And, yes, I think it can be a little presumptuous. I mean, what do you care, right?

I’ve actually been amazed by how much you care. By how much credence you’ve given to my sometimes haphazard thoughts. I know my own time constraints and schedule, and I’ve been amazed at how ready you’ve been to carve out however brief a space in yours for this blog. I’ve been honored by the comments–both here and on Facebook and Twitter. I’ve been inspired by how many of you have taken the time to send me a personal email about something you’ve read or seen here.

Still, courage? Contemplating whatever courage might be required to enter the blogosphere and the daunting task of interjecting my voice into the fray has me thinking about the reason I started this “thing” in the first place. And, the reason behind the reason I’ve realized since.

I had been contemplating this adventure for some time before I actually began. I’ve always enjoyed writing and journaling. This particular medium seemed (from an observer’s position) to be the perfect combination of both. I was pregnant with Baby Girl at the time and swimming in a sea of toddler antics, dirty diapers and waning second trimester stamina. I was immersed in the usual schedule of home-making and nursery preparations. I was keeping my head above water with a healthy design schedule at my day job. And, I was realizing that, for the first time in my life, I had virtually abandoned any personal creative pursuit.

For those of you who haven’t read all the fine print, my day job is with an advertising agency where I am a graphic designer. So, I use my creativity for a living. However, I’ve always somehow needed an outlet for exploring ideas in a more personal way. Whether through painting or poetry or book-making, expressing myself–usually through some combination of words and pictures–has always fueled energy and creativity in other areas of my life.

It began to dawn on me as I made it through the considerable energy drain of a third pregnancy paired with two toddlers that my children didn’t yet know that creative person, that writer, that painter, that maker of things. Somehow through complacency or busyness or sheer exhaustion, I had forsaken those pursuits. Then, I began to notice this odd on-line medium called blogging. I began to see this type of outlet as a way to incorporate those creative tendencies back into my life without the less than kid-friendly materials and space required for something like the watercolor painting or collage I was prone to. In early 2005, my parents gifted me with an exquisite little MacBook named Kermit. He opened the doors of reality on that little idea that had been germinating. I began brainstorming and making notes and sketches for how a personal blog might actually flesh out. You can read the evolution of “eyeJunkie” and the “adventures in paying attention” theme another time, but suffice it to say that one domain name, a web hosting account, and one WordPress download later, this blog was born.

“Hello, world.” That statement was enough to intimidate me for sure. It was the title of the test post WordPress Dude includes in every download of the application. It chrystalized the nature of this experiment pretty clearly–my words, my voice broadcast to the world for all manner of internet-goers to partake. Yikes.

My voice.

As I plugged along with writing and posting, EyeJunkie certainly filled the creative bill. It helped me accomplish that goal of a creative pursuit. Those readers who have been around for any length of time can attest that I’ve subjected the Junksters to all kinds of experiments and hare-brained ideas–graphics popping up here and there, series starting and fizzling, run-on sentences and fragments abounding. But, something else beyond a basic creative outlet has emerged for me in these two years.

Recently, I was writing some thoughts (something about underwear purchases or chili… don’t even ask) in an email to a friend who commented… “this sounds like an EJ post.” Wait a minute. EyeJunkie posts have a sound. That stuck. The comment made me realize the reason behind the reason that this blogging adventure matters to me. I’ve noticed a voice emerging. Mine. A consistency and willingness to speak. A thoughtful, but emphatic tone. An amalgum of emotion framed in a single sound. The sound of my own voice.

Through the months of blogging, I recognized that I had been in a period of my life for some time when I felt that my voice was being drowned out–perhaps by difficult relationships, distractions and interruptions, the absorption of care-giving and kid-loving, dailyness and just plain busyness. I found that my own voice was hushed and difficult to discern–even to myself–above (or below) the din. Through the act of writing and exposing thoughts to the world regardless of who may or may not be reading, I was finding my voice again. I realized again that I had something to say, and this venue gave me the inclination to say it. To find the courage to speak it. In my own voice.

Is transparency in this world brave? Perhaps. Is writing an authentic blog essay courageous? I don’t know. I don’t think I’ve put courage into this body of nonsense as much as it’s put courage into me. Writing an EyeJunkie worthy of your attention has encouraged me to speak. In my own voice. If the question of courage is “where can I find it?”, for sure I’ve found at least a little within this cyber space. Thank you for listening to that process.

Where the Ideas Take Me

Warning: This is yet another post about writing. What is it about writers that makes them write so much about writing–analyzing their own “craft,” evaluating their own habits? I can hear the chorus of oh-good-griefs resonating through cyberspace right now. Truth be told; I don’t necessarily consider myself to be a “writer” most of the time. I’m just a girl who writes, really. I don’t know if that gets me off the hook with the “writing about writing” fiasco. But here goes.

I love to write. I really do. And, I hate to write. I really do. There’s the rub. In observing myself, I’ve realized that there’s a point (call it A) at which I’m really excited about the process. And there’s a point (call it B) at which I can’t even successfully bribe myself with chocolate to do it. Then, I get back to the place where I’m willing to write, actually put some work into it. And finally, on the really fun days, I get in that zone–the state of mind where the essays write themselves, and I’m just along for the key-tapping. I’m the same way with my design projects sometimes (the day job). I imagine the process is similar for those in other creative pursuits. And let’s face it; are there really pursuits that aren’t creative? Whether it’s writing or painting or architecture or graphic design or preschool lesson-planning or cooking or running a business or whatever, sometimes it’s hard to get from unsuccessful bribery to willingness. Much less to being along to enjoy the ride. If it lights a fire inside, it has the potential to squelch itself just as easily in my experience. And at some point, hopefully the flame just burns inspite of itself.

As you may have guessed, writing has not been coming easily these days. You can surmise that from the infrequency of my posts (if this particular essay didn’t give it away.) The breakdown in the process for me comes more from simply getting started than from the actual writing itself. Once I set about putting my fingertips to the keys, the words usually come. It’s the getting there that’s the problem. So, what stalls me between point A and point B?  Just like with many kinds of decisions or pursuits, you can take a number.

Sometimes it’s fear or insecurity. Can I really do this? Sometimes it’s lack of sincerity or commitment. Am I really willing to put the time into this? More often than not, it’s the paralysis of ideas — either too many or too little.  Maybe that one comes from the quest for perfection. Ideas in their raw form are ethereal. They’re abstract to an extent. They have the glamour of perfection without the work required for a lean, toned, well-coiffed presentation. And, bringing about that toned essay from some fleeting idea regularly brings me many a moment of insecurity, indecision and non-commitment.

I’m an idea girl. I can brainstorm with the best of them. In fact, I’m a huge proponent of that unfiltered practice. I actually spend a lot of time doing it. But, I’ve been confounded by the idea of ideas lately. So many beginnings, it’s hard to choose which one to explore to a satisfying conclusion. And, an idea is only as good as where it takes me.

I saw a comment in a Twitter chat recently. It may have been part of some targeted conversation on innovation or marketing or social media–one of those things that verify my nerd status. I can’t remember. But the thought was that ideas aren’t really the best commodity–not the best investment. It made the case that a better investment is in those who can generate ideas. The process of producing ideas has more potential for return than any one, fleeting idea. I found that to be interesting and true. To a degree. The ability to generate ideas is indeed a notable gift, but the ability to follow through on an idea is also important. To chase an idea unencumbered by precedent or constraint or forethought can be a frustrating process, but also a rewarding one. Ideas can gain a life and passion of their own. Following them can get me to surprising places.

In my efforts to get from that unsuccessful bribe I mentioned to the willingness to work at it, to chase it, I ask myself lots of questions. Do I need to put myself on a schedule? To discipline myself more? Do I need to limit my focus? Find someone to hold me accountable? Do I need to pick a singular topic? Am I committed to this? Can I do this? Regardless of the answers, I do find that when I write, writing comes. When I stop thinking about where the ideas might lead and start following their trail in actual words and sentences, they actually take me somewhere. And it’s usually a place I enjoy going.

So, why am I sharing this? At the risk of being ridiculous, I have no idea. Call it a visual aid. It was one of those ideas that I decided to pursue, committing my fingers to the trusty laptop keyboard. Did it take me somewhere valuable? You tell me. Does it feel good to bang something out without thinking about its “postability?” Yes, it does. So, the fact that I’m along for the ride accomplishes my purpose.

EyeJunkie writing lesson of the week: Ideas are like topics of conversation, BlowPop flavors and underwear… when in doubt, just pick one and go with it.

#300: The Story of Us

I’ve been thinking about stories. Every night I read them. Bug and Little Drummer Boy have their distinctive routines for getting in bed–their own special bed buddies, their own words they need to say to Mommy, their own way of wearing a blanket–and they always involve stories. Stories read and stories told. They would probably both read for hours or until their little eyelids gave way, but as the adult in the process, I usually set a few parameters. Bug reads two in the rocking chair by his bed and then gets in the crib for a backrub and a song. LDB reads one or two in the big red chair and then one in his bed before a backrub and a song. Mommy carries the veto power over whether we read short or long stories–and how many of their own stories they can tell–depending on how much time we have. I must admit that the system is a little fluid.

It’s funny reading stories with my children. Baby Girl’s version is a quick rampage through her little bookshelf. Every now and then she brings one to the window seat to discuss in her special Baby Girl language, but quickly tires of the details. Bug has finally moved past the rampage process and prefers to be in total control of the story experience, pointing out which words to read on each page. It makes for a disfunctional tale, but he seems to like it. Little Drummer Boy often ponders each page, asking questions and drawing conclusions about the characters at every turn. I’m always amazed at how they each become a part of every story they “read.” Each story is a story of us or of their day at school or of their favorite toy of the moment.

Me? I find myself focused at the beginning and end of the story, daydreaming through the pages. I coerce them into choosing a book to start. I rush them through closing the book and climbing in bed. In between, I often realize I’ve been thinking of something altogether different as I recite the words I’ve come to memorize.

I’ve been reminded over the past few weeks of the sheer generosity and courage found in telling stories–the stories at the heart of people. And, sadly, how quick I am to daydream through the pages, focused on the easier to mark signposts of start and finish, and assuming everything else in between. It’s so easy to impatiently want to skip to the end rather than endure the personal commitment of absorbing that daily, hard-revealed narrative. I’ve been amazed and grateful for the unselfish generosity of spirit revealed in the single pages of an individual’s story that has been freely laid open. And how much that generosity opens me to experience that story as my own–the story of us, not them.

This post is #300 in this little EyeJunkie storytelling experiment. The experiment represents the day to day pages of eighteen months and counting. It’s a humbling experience to see some of the connections that have been made through simple reading and writing, well-chosen and haphazard words. The stories start living. They breathe with the life of hardships and friendships and love and connections and disappointments and so many other things.

As I’ve been thinking through the direction of future posts, I’ve started to realize that stories need a storyteller so that those tales–of children and parents, hungry and thirsty, free and chained, crooked and straight–become the story of us. Not me. Not them. I want to be sure my attention in this endeavor is refocused on that generous act. I’ll try my best.

4th Day of Thanksgiving: 10:03pm

10:03pm

For those of you who may not be privy to the secret inner world of WordPress Dude, the EyeJunkie posts don’t always come hot off the keyboard just as the thoughts spring from my brain. No, sometimes I actually schedule them ahead. [shock!] Sometimes I let them sit in my digital diary for weeks or months, adding a sentence or two here and there until they’ve adequately germinated. Sometimes they sit in the draft queue for a while waiting on me to hit the “publish” button. Sometimes they hang out in my hand-written title brainstorm list for an inordinate amount of time while I make room on the priority list. Sometimes WordPress Dude’s auto save function presses happily on while I scoot over to dictionary.com to find out the correct spelling of a word or while I answer one of the 4yo, 3yo or 1yo questions that come my way. If I’m really honest, sometimes when I say “last night” it was actually a few nights ago, or maybe a few months ago. Life’s just like that. Although the blogging medium is usually a little more transparent than some, WordPress Dude still offers a modicum of subterfuge tactics. It’s kind of like learning that President Obama wasn’t really the one writing all those tweets. Just as obvious, only with a MUCH smaller audience. For the three of my kind readers to whom it wasn’t obvious, I can only say… Pay no attention to the gal behind the curtain.

I think I may have taken this intro a little further than necessary.

10:16pm

I say all that to say this… This post is coming off the keyboard in real time. It’s a little odd even for me, but I needed a little self-intervention. You see, I’ve been struggling all day with coming up with some idea (any idea) for what to write about giving thanks. The fact is, I’m just about “give out,” as they say in my best Southern. It’s been a frustrating week so far with few thanksgiving fuzzies. I feel like I’m giving out in so many areas–being a wife, a mother, a cook, a home-keeper, a “creative”, a designer, a blogger, a social media strategist, a writer–and there’s not enough coming back in at the moment. Likely, I’ve stretched my creativity too thin, which happens periodically, but the bottom line is that thanksgiving is not really part of the equation right now.

I’ve been frustrated. I’ve been irritated. I’ve been tired. I’ve been a complainer and even a whiner. I’ve been ripe for ranting about something, anything. [Aside: I fed the rant habit with a little ditty I'll post tomorrow] I had to ask Little Drummer Boy’s forgiveness today. I had to try two gas pumps before the credit card machine would work. While staring aimlessly ahead as I pumped away $35, I read “container” as “cantankerous” on the petroleum warnings. Enough said.

10:26pm

So, I’m going uncensored this evening in an attempt to sharply correct my attitude. And to add a shot of reality into this 12 Days of Thanksgiving thing. I just don’t feel like being grateful. I can’t find my gratitude inspiration. It’s Day 4. What can I glean about giving thanks from this predicament.

Here’s something that’s as good as any… Thanksgiving is my choice. There I said it. If thanksgiving is my choice, then being a whiner is my choice too. Ouch. It’s a painful reality. It’s not that I don’t have something to be thankful for or that there is nothing in my life to inspire my gratitude. The problem is that I’m choosing to focus my attention in the wrong direction. It’s my choice.

So, here goes. With you as my witness, I’m turning the corner, turning the page, whatever. It’s time to rethink my choice. I’m going to spend the next 15 minutes writing things I’m thankful for. And, I don’t mean a list of stuff I like. I mean things that have added blessing and value to my life just in the last few days. Ready, go.

10:35pm

Old friends that have unintentionally encouraged me to get real — A work acquaintance who responded to a request I thought was overlooked in such an incredibly generous, humble and transparent way — The ability to write what I think and feel in this amazing forum and have other people actually read it — The sweet voice of Bug as he sings his lullaby with me, and keeping my voice as soft as humanly possible so I could hear — Obys takeout on a busy day — Having the opportunity to speak for Dux D’Lux in online media, a great and challenging responsibility — A job that has continued to challenge me for 15 years, where I’ve continued to learn and grow creatively — Our first really crisp day — A glowing orange cable-knit v-neck sweater for $14.99 (I’m a girl, and it’s basic, folks) — The internet, what unprecedented access to ideas and opinions from everywhere all at once — The screaming from my hallway and realizing it’s the glee of truck races and giggles rather than arguments — A few days of full-time work for Quiver and the hope that it will continue — Baby Girl has not been pulling on her ear in the last few days and early evening naps have made her a happy camper — The artistic vision of Walter Anderson — Relatively smooth mornings and safe travel as I’ve handled getting all three gifts dressed and to preschool by myself this week — The anticipation of getting to have lunch with Little Drummer Boy on Friday — The fact that my gifts love going to their school — The act of forgiveness, giving and receiving it — Rat poison to stop that incessant scratching during these first cold days (sorry, had to go there because it’s distracting me) — The joy that comes from learning from others — The opportunity to give grace where it’s due and where it isn’t –

10:50pm

Ok. The choice is a no-brainer.