Thursday, June 25, 2015

A Writer Writes


And so I wait…in a cold, sterile, rigid feeling room – one in which silence, formality and respect rule. All eyes either forward or focused on private musings. No chit chat, no hushed laughter, just focused waiting. I am among the early birds, dare I suggest - the obedient, the compliant, the serious folk who somewhere in their DNA have been trained to arrive at least 15 minutes ahead of schedule. No doubt the room will continue to fill – hopefully the added body heat will take the chill out of the room, but the stone cold silence will undoubtedly remain. There will be others joining us, the stragglers, those who were uncertain of their appointed destination, those easily confused in following directions and those who are by nature habitually late. As one enters the room they must make a decision as to where to sit. Many hover near the entrance as if they hope for a speedy exit. The back row is filled first, reminiscent of a southern Baptist church. The more adventuresome traverse to the far side of the room, the more confident fill the first three rows. Many are dressed very conservatory in colors that tend to make one anonymous in a crowd – perhaps that is their goal – or perhaps it’s just more respectful and business like considering the surroundings.  A few, like myself, can’t help but display bright happy summer colors. Perhaps we are the peacocks of the world – those who aren’t necessarily trying to stand out but who just feel the need to add a little color to a dreary world – shining a light in the darkness - whether intentionally or subconsciously. The flow of participants continues, the vacant seats becoming fewer. Those arriving near the appointed time have a bigger decision to make than those who arrived early. No longer is it a matter of front, center, or back of room. Instead it’s more of looking for several open seats together to avoid sitting by a stranger. We have become a society fueled by the motto “stranger danger”, having been taught “no eye contact” as if this makes us invisible in a crowd.  Yesteryear a similar gathering would have been more “community,” more jovial, similar to  small town chatter as we awaited the events that are moments away of commencing.  Precisely at 1115   “All rise!” 

Welcome to the Galveston County Jury Selection….


The above was scribbled in the journal I brought to take notes if needed. So what does a rambler do while she waits? She writes! I was released today after being "on call" all week. I was not chosen for a panel.

Monday, June 22, 2015

To blog or not to blog - that is the question

6/22/15. It's been a long long time since I've blogged. In the busyness of trying to juggle too many things blog time was severed. A good or bad thing I know not. Instead of justifying or regretting the lack of this form of communication or trying to "catch up" I think the real issue is whether to take up the task again. Or not.

I have to ask myself the why or why not, the what or the what not, the how and when and most important the who cares factor must be considered.

Why would I blog again? It's time consuming to write, edit, polish thoughts not to mention pictures. What would be the purpose? What would I write about? Quilting? adventure? or lack of? How and when would I find the time and seriously "who cares!?!??"

Bottom line. I write for me. Pure and selfish. I write because there are so many words in me that need to be said, and perhaps because at times there is no one to listen but pen and ink - or keyboard and screen. An audience is actually a side benefit. The words just need to flow. The danger comes in seeking an audience and their approval   If I blog again it must truly be for self expression and I must continually remind myself does it matter "who cares?!"

If it's my self expression and someone else finds it entertaining or can " relate" then there's another side benefit too - but not the goal.

It's like making a quilt. Generally I don't have a purpose in mind other than expressing creativity or needing a challenge of working through a pattern - sometimes designing my own -or perhaps just the comfort of feeling the fabric and listening to the sound of the machine. Therapy. Joy. Passion. A sense of accomplishment. Not approval seeking or self promoting.

Perhaps blogging again will offer me another sense of accomplishment - journaling thoughts, documenting & chronicling my journey - providing a place for my words to rest  - read or unread -  
Therapy. Joy. Passion. Regardless of who  cares.

It's worth considering.

By the way - here's something worth sharing! My precious pup is still my professional quilt model! Life is good