Bygone Betty

Sometimes I get anxious about what I write on my blog. Why should I have to edit my thoughts?  It’s MY blog. The blog really isn't for anyone but me.  Besides, I’m pretty sure the only eyes scanning these posts are mine and Gabby’s. hahah

I suppose it’s the fact I have scars from writing what I wanted  in the past.  Remember when myspace was cool and you could post notes or thoughts on your myspace wall? I guess it was like a mini version of a blog. Well, I’ve always been one to treat writing like it’s my friend. It’s always there when I need it most. Writing will let you pour your soul out all over the table, no matter how messy. Writing hangs out with you even when you’re not the most fun person to be around. Writing patiently waits on you to pull it together.  It laughs when I laugh, cries when I cry. It let me vent, is a good listener, keeps your secrets, and is non-judgmental. Writing should let me be honest with myself. Writing comforts me and is therapeutic. No relationship is perfect though, even my relationship to writing. Sometimes writing is a cruel bitch who betrays you.

 One time, I looked to myspace for venting and comfort. I thought the post was private. I mean it’s better writing something mean about someone than penning  up all that anger and doing something drastic down the road., right? I still vouche for the legitimacy of the content in the post. I was ranting some drama about how me and Jes were the only mates working towards moving our band in any direction. Yes, I probably should have just confronted the other band mates about it, but I really didn’t think they would print out my personal thoughts and pass it around like Sunday communion. After that, I had other instances in college where my writing was overly criticized, and then I just lost faith in myself. I actually stopped writing. Now, blogging has come to mean that I am just archiving pictures of Indie with cute little captions under the photo, which I love doing, but sometimes I want and need to dig a little deeper.  

There’s an episode of “Everybody loves Raymond” that I think about in this instance. Deborah finally reaches her wits end with her monster, I mean, mother-in-law, Marie. Deborah decides to write Marie a note laying everything out on the table: how she is a nosy, manipulative, guilt machine.  Raymond says something along the lines of, “Whhhyy would you do that?? No, no, no, if you want to tell somebody something, you say it; don’t write it. Writing is permanent. With verbal speech you can say, ‘No, I didn’t mean that. That’s not what I said.” In the end of the episode the loose ends are tied for the most part; however, Marie saves the letter from Deborah in her drawer with a lock and key and says to Frank, “You don’t throw something like this away. Ever.” Deborah should have listened to Ray. I mean he is a writer for a living. I should have listened to Ray, so lesson learned, TV sitcom. (Who said TV couldn’t be educational? Actually, I’m pretty sure I said that during my free-love, hippie, no tv, no internet, phase of my life.) Anyway, if you don’t want something to be permanent, and passed around like and STD, then don’t write it. Some people don’t let go of the past; they hold grudges, or bookmark hateful, trolling internet comments, so when they start to like you, they can re-read that chapter in their life just to remember why they hate you. I, myself, have a problem with this, but maybe through writing, I can begin healing. In other words, I gotta get my groove my back. I need to return to writing. I’m losing pieces of myself. Those pieces are gone.  I think the only way I can get it back is through creativity. Create new pieces.  

So, will every blog post/ status update be deep and heartfelt? Hell no. I don't have time. I'm a mom now, but that doesn't mean I have to lose my writing capabilities. I will write what I want. If that bothers anyone, let me direct you to the tiny red 'X' at the upper right hand corner of this window.