Thursday, January 21, 2010

Dear Jenny...

Confession time. I have nothing to say. Absolutely nothing. I took a little hiatus after Christmas to just enjoy the holiday and relax, but I have wanted to sit and write for at least a couple of weeks now. One problem. Nothing is coming. But two readers have now asked for a post and I am nothing if not accommodating.
I am not so delusional as to think that I ever say anything earth-shattering or even compelling in any way. Most of the time poignant is even beyond my reach, but I do hope to share. Share a little piece of me. This is something that I am actually not particularly good at. Sharing I mean. Well, feelings that is. Toys? Sure. My Halloween candy (except Snickers)? Of course. Clothes, money, friends, recipes, time, talents...anything...but feelings? Uh, No.
I am, by nature, rather private. I am friendly and some would call me outgoing even, but I keep my deepest feelings exactly that...deep. Always have. But I love to write. Always have. When I was 13 I read The Diary of Anne Frank in 7th grade English. I was struck by the idea that Anne named her diary, "Kitty" as I recall, and wrote to her as one would a letter to a dear friend. That same year I started a journal of my own. "Jenny" was her name and I talked to her faithfully, daily, sometimes hourly from that time until I married at age 21. Somehow that is when the journal writing came to a rather abrupt halt. I still wrote, but it was not the same. I only wrote when something important happened. It became a bit of a record as opposed to the friend that I had written to all those years. I do not know why I stopped. I guess it seemed childish for a grown, married mother to write to an imaginary friend. Hmph! Even saying that makes me sad. Why did I think growing up meant letting go of my imagination?
Truth be told though. It was a piece of me that was important. The writing. I don't make any judgements about whether this is something I am good at or not. It does not really matter. It is a part of who I am. It is a part of what makes me, me. I write. I lost that for so many years. I missed it, but I let it go because...well, I don't know why. But I did.
This blog has, for the last couple of years, given that back to me. All my lovely imaginary friends. A place to share a thought, a feeling, an idea. I don't know who all reads. I usually cannot figure out why anyone does, but I appreciate the place to be me. To do what I do. To write. And today I write about nothing. For the sake of the writing itself. Thank you for go take back some part of yourself that you let go!
Quote of the Day: "Keep away from people who try to belittle your ambitions.
Small people always do that,but the really great make you feel that you too can become great."
--Mark Twain writer/philosopher and all around fun guy