Blogger's Blah.

Sometimes I get in a blogger's blah. I want to write so bad. I want to pour my heart out about whatever comes out when my fingers touch the keyboard.

I want to touch people.

I want to move them in a way nothing else could.

Because that's what writing does to me.

And I want to share that with them. Anybody. Everybody.

Because for me, it's like jumping into a swimming pool when it's 115 degrees outside.. (ahem arizona)

Or climbing into the covers after long days of exhaustion and stress.

And when I experience something moving, something that makes me stop and think- I want others to experience it with me.

Feel my pain, and my sorrow.

Cry with me because their heart aches the way mine does.

But I also want them to feel my happiness, and my joy.

Laugh with me because they feel the same freedom that happiness brings me.

I want it to feel so real they think it's happening to them. Because that's what happens to me. I become the writer when I read. I become someone else, living in a different time, and a different place.

And I want to share that feeling with the world.

Yet here I am sitting at the keyboard waiting for some masterpiece to flow from my fingers.

However, it's not.

My fingers aren't racing across the keys typing as fast as the words come. They are barely moving...and when they do I am fumbling over keys so clumsily that I have to keep deleting and re-writing. Ugh. So this is what I call a blogger's blah.

It's been so long since I've written, and my heart, hands, and mind are begging me to write yet here I am with nothing to say. Nothing.

I mean I went to Mexico. And it was amazing. And I have great pictures. Why can't I write about that? Why won't anything come? There were amazing sunsets, incredible meals, millions of laughs and late night Rummy games. Why won't anything come from that?

Or what about my 4 and a half hour plane ride next to a large woman who made me crawl on my hands and knees under her seat to get her book for her? Or how she made my dad dig through her bag to find a splitter so her and I could watch a movie together? I thought I could pull something funny out of that. But still I'm left with nothing.

So, I guess that leaves me one thing to do.

Free-write.

I think free-writing for a blogger's blah is like Mucinex for a sinus infection. Or cherry lozenges for a sore throat. It doesn't cure it, but it makes the symptoms much, much better.

I don't always make sense when I free-write. My grammar isn't always perfect. My thoughts are usually completely scattered. But it's okay. Because it's raw. It's more personal than any other form of writing because you are writing from somewhere deep inside. Somewhere that only gets to speak when you allow it to speak for itself- without interfering. Without deleting, spell-checking, and defining every line. It's where good writing begins. By not thinking about what is going to come next, and if it's going to make sense or if it sounds nice together. But instead, just doing it.

No promises of a masterpiece. No promises of a moving story, or even a stop-and-think moment. And no promises it won't be weird. But that's what I love about free-writing. You don't have to promise anything.

So, here goes.

I need to turn the handle

without fearing the door will open.

Like the emblem that hangs around my neck everyday.

I wake up and put it on-

not the slightest blink or flinch.

You see the pale flower

always guarded by the trees, grass, meadows.

I need the protection, I need to rest

knowing I will wake again.

But I look out the window, and see rain

dripping down the panes like tears.

Why are you crying?

You travel everywhere, see millions

of running trees and dancing fields of freedom.

Yet your tears stain my window, and reflect my eyes of

longing.

You welcome the snow, harsh winds, and hail that pelt your skin like

needles.

You smile in sunshine and love your ever changing surroundings.

I need to wipe away the cold fog and focus through the tear-stained window.

I need to understand the language of the road, the blurry nothingness.

I need to open the door and brace myself for the cold, the heat,

the soft, the hard.

I need to look into the eyes of change, and not fear.

I need to be

and do.

I need. I want. I will.

And that's all. Thanks to my blogger's blah. So until the clouds in my mind clear,

Au Revoir.