What's It All About?

Inspirational song: Alfie (Dionne Warwick)

Several people have volunteered the information to me lately that they have been reading this blog. It feels like a little lottery win every time. I have been working so hard to develop the discipline to write every day, and I have mined my soul for a way to express my vignettes in a way that is compelling to read. I suppose if I were a pure artist, I wouldn't need outsiders to validate my creations. But I am a fallible, vulnerable human being instead, and knowing that anyone is interested in my art makes it easier to keep going. I don't have it in me to be selfish, to do all of this just for myself. I was born to share, for good or for bad, and I want more than anything to continue to bring to you all something worth your time.

I've met some new people, and invariably they ask what I do. Answering leads to the inevitable question, What is your blog about? I hate that question. Do I explain where it started, with my hopes and dreams of a garden paradise and endless energy and stamina to maintain it? Do I draw in the fears and dread and emotional upheaval of that time last spring, when the man was preparing to go to work far away, and I was feeling like a hostage in my volunteer obligations and I needed an outlet to organize my thoughts and exorcise my demons, to find my way back to mental health and emotional strength? What about my daily pictures and stories that were thinly veiled love letters to the man who wasn't here to share my day to day experiences anymore? And of course, my anecdotes from deep in my history are ways to preserve my own memories, typing them into a safety deposit box for security against the risks of an aging mind that may lay in my future, and a gift to my children. Or do I just admit my deepest fears, that I have devolved into a crazy cat lady trying to stay relevant only because the internet is made of cats?

Tonight, on the way home from failing to see a movie (Moviefone lied to me, and we were 30 minutes late), the man asked me what my long term plans were. We won't be living here forever, and he wondered whether I intend to get a paying job again anytime soon. I answered truthfully, that I have discovered what I want to be doing forever. I want to write. I would love to find a way to make writing pay, but I want to keep doing this even if I never earn a dime at it. I might hold a grudge against Adsense for a while longer, but I will move on and keep looking for other avenues to make this feel like a real profession. In a perfect world, I would collaborate with my man, making books with his stunning photographs and my words. He told me he wants to roam, to load us all into an RV of his own making, and be wild for upwards of a year. He has an unparalleled way with photos, and I have a long-held conviction that his work should be published. I am honing my craft, preparing for the day when he and I could produce travel books showcasing his eye and my words. I just hope that by the time we are free to roam, print media will still be alive. If not, I have to figure out a way to make a living with all these zeros and ones. Other people do it. I'll eventually stumble on the right method.

And for the record: It's about whatever I want it to be about.