Monday, May 9, 2011
All Together Now
That's like describing the history of the world: Time began, some shit happened, to be continued...
I mean... how the hell do I do that?! Today marks my 800th post. Huzzah!
Oy. Okay. For those of you who are just joining me...
I started this blog three and a half years ago under duress. Basically, I caved to peer pressure. The day I chose to start it, I was under the influence of hives and benadryl and desperate to do anything that would take my mind off of the maddening itch. Even so, I had this underlying hunch that it might be a good outlet for dealing with feelings I had after losing my late mate, John, to cancer. After all, it was only going to be read by a few close friends and family, and it was a good way of keeping them up to speed with my progress as a "widow."
It soon became apparent to me that I was writing my way out of a quagmire of emotion, that every time I wrote I was reaching toward something. And that stretch was helping me grow, was helping me become unstuck from what could just as easily overwhelm me. I wasn't an artist then, not really, not mentally. I thought I might just grow up to be a writer. I remembered something I'd read about writers and writing, it may have been something Stephen King said. It was something to the affect of how even the most far-fetched writing should be honest, should have elements of honesty in it.
I made it my goal to write with complete honesty. Besides, if I was going to use writing to get through my soul gunk, then it had to be honest. Right? Of course right. So I wrote about everything that hit me in any way. I realized that it wasn't just John's death that I needed to deal with, but all of me, everything I felt inside. If I was going to rebirth myself, if I was going to find the path, then I needed to hack away all of the briers. Added to that, my inner (feisty) gypsy had had quite enough of everyone's bullshit, including my own.
Somehow, somewhere along the way, people started following my blog. People I didn't know. I hope I never stop being amazed by that. I hope I never lose the feeling of, "Why? It's just me writing..." But all that writing opened me up, and for some reason people identified (identify) with it. I think the lack of sugar-coating and pussy-footing was a refreshing change.
But, the synopsis. I started by writing about itching. Along the way I wrote about anger, death, grief, sex, cheese, stew, Hungary and Hungarians, books, music, pie, humor, external validation, childhood, words, biscuits, passion, Maori, inspiration, fear, Santa Claus, languages, the journey, friends, strength, walking, dreams, laughter, art, family, travel, self-doubt, relationships, moving, love, animals, movies, nature, and being locked out on the deck. Not in that order.
How do I summate all that?! Five words: Bienvenido a mi vida loca.
It would be easy to storyboard my days, I lost a mate. I worked a going nowhere career. I got involved in a relationship that I knew would never work - and that was okay with me because the occasional sex was worth it. When the sex wasn't worth it, I ditched the asswipe. I met Steve, I fell head-over-heals truly, madly, deeply in love with him, as I still am. I now work as an artist.
But that storyboard doesn't capture the nuance.
Somewhere along the way, somehow in all that openness of writing it all out, an artist emerged. That artist wasn't born in a shuddering heap that took forever to get legs under it, it was a newborn colt, ready to leap and run at the first rush of fresh air. I was only waiting for my own permission to hold a paintbrush. It was part of the No Bullshit Policy in some way - that need to express everything I felt, through any means necessary, no holds barred.
You could say that although my life began in 1961, I didn't begin actively living my life until 2007.
So, for those of you who are just joining me... Some shit happened, time stopped, then time began again, then some other shit happened, and I wrote about it...
to be continued...
Posted by Barb Black at 10:33:00 AM