Swingset Symphonies

Day 2 of Blogging, and I don't know what to say.

I never did write for other people to read it, which I know is silly. Writing is communicating, and if all I do is write and hide the pages, who am I communicating to? I once heard about a writer who burnt everything she wrote, just to make sure no one could ever read it. For about a decade, I'd say I was as close to that as I could get without lighting a match.

The only way I can account for this is to point out that I was communicating, and you might ask who to? Well, to me, or several selfs. I'm not bipolar or a schizophrenic, but I have noticed a difference between the voice I hear talking and the voice in my head, the multiple layers of god-knows-what protecting god-knows-who (I certainly don't) and the fact that I'm starting to believe more and more that Vonnegut was describing us all when he said Billy Pilgrim has become unstuck in time. Crazy, I know, right? No, not really. It's not such a crazy thought when as a 10 year old you came up with the theory that there had been a mix-up in the reincarnation charts when you swore you met your reincarnated self in the form of a duck that liked Apple Cinnamon Cheerios. So now tell me, exactly who do you want communicating with the outside world? The voice in my head, the voice in my throat, the person floating around in time, or the duck?

Writing is one of the only forms of communication I've found that bridges the gaps in me. Running has worked well in the past, and of course I tried the whole confiding in other people thing, but that has become more and more difficult as time goes on. I'll be having a conversation, see, and it's all going well and good, and it's time for me to make the clever remark, right? So I open up the door, ready to pull out some awesome critique or new topic, and the only thing I encounter is the hum of thoughts wizzing by. They go in one ear and....don't fly straight, so they usually end up getting caught up in some pinball wizardry. Don't look at me funny next time I respond with a sound. Sometimes, that's all I've got to work with.

So to those of you who are reading this and know me, I am sorry for the trainwrecks I am causing, have caused, and always am going to cause. To those of you that don't know me and are reading this, watch from a distance--there are sure to be fireworks.