The Gorilla in The Room

I've been "writing" again. I say "writing" with those annoying little quotes because what I am actually doing every morning (EVERY morning) at the crack of o-dark-thirty is this: BlackBerry Curve (the snazzy red one) alarm tone chimes (I really like the chime sounds - and am I not sooo cool to wake by cell phone rather than an old school, totally annoying alarm clock??), I press snooze a few times (no more than three) then get up, and go pad around the dark kitchen for a few minutes deciding if I want to nuke yesterday's brew or make a small pot o' fresh. Fresh usually wins.

Meanwhile, I try not to step on the small, annoying, yappy dog right at my heels that I swore I would never own - no offense, but I'm a big dog person historically, and this guy does nothing to change my mind about it. In fact, I may switch back to a cat - and I go out to my laundry room office to fire up the PC. Yes, I am not a Mac, I am a PC. No special reason, except lately I've been selling off refrigerators to support my family and the indulgence of an insanely expensive computer didn't seem practical.

Coffee made, dog avoided, PC slowly waking up - fifteen minutes gone.

Log on, go back to kitchen to get that cuppa (w/fat-free half and half - isn't that crazy? How do they make fat-free half and half? Isn't the fat the whole point of half and half??), come back out to laundry room office. Where are my slippers? Spend another five minutes deciding they are lost (those kids!!!!), and open up both the note-taking site I use and the mind-mapping one I've got for this supposed, alleged, much talked about "Memoir" I'm "writing".

I review the previous day's efforts to get my berrings. Throw up a little in my mouth.

"GAH! It's all CRAP! What the HECK am I doing here? What kind of an idiot thinks her life is REMOTELY interesting to ANYONE??? I should go back to bed."

Internal dialogue here. Don't want to wake the precious children.

I shake it off and try to focus.

The problem is that I don't know what to focus on. I think I know what I want to say, then when I start saying it, doubt creeps in on little cat feet. Maybe I'll stick with dogs, after all.

I have a section of life I think I am supposed to talk about. I have stuff mapped out, and think I'm ready to go. Then, when I start writing, it seems so pointless: what am I trying to SAY??? You know, is there a moral to this story? "Kids, don't do drugs", or "Stay in school". I could be a poster child for those causes.

In fact, I have "experimented" with so many things in my life that, to me, it seems a little implausible. I look like - who's that guy, the one who got outed after Oprah loved him? And, I really don't think I need to expose every single little part of my huge, white underbelly. It's kind of a need-to-know thing, isn't it?

Plus, it does seem self indulgent. Why does my story have any more worth than anyone else's? Because, really, it doesn't. We all are in one big story together. We all have our small stories within the context of that one. So who cares?

I titled this post The Gorilla in The Room because you often read about writers having an internal critic or editor. That little annoying voice that nags you and hounds you and tells you you are full of crap (I mean the other word, but kids read my blog, besides I try really hard not to say it . . . much). My little voice is like monster huge. And I picture him as a King-Kong sized gorilla who would be hanging on my back, but even my back isn't big enough, so he sits in an office chair with his huge, gorilla feet crossed and propped up on the desk next to me. He is constantly grooming himself, even as he zings me with his little comments: "You're right you know," he says as he examines whatever nasty thing he just found in his fur, "it doesn't matter. No one will want to read it anyway. Why are you wasting your time? You should go back to that mystery series. Don't you have it all plotted out? 'Course, that's all a bag of poo, too..."

As he pops the invisible nit into his huge, nasty mouth.

ARGH!!

More time spent trying to shut him the heck up. Focus, Kathy, focus.

What am I trying to say???

Mr. Gorilla chimes in, "Exactly. You have nothing to say".

GAH!

Deep cleansing breaths. In through the nose, out through the mouth.

So you see what I'm up against? I will, however, attempt to persevere. I hate stinky Mr. Gorilla almost as much as I hate Small Yappy Dog - no offense.

Somewhere in this room there's a pony . . . but that's another story, and I need to get back to my real "writing".

Hang on, I haven't checked my Facebook or Twitter yet this morning. . .

No animals were harmed in the writing of this post. Yet.

"Home" Free Write #1

I'm in a writing class at the University of Washington - Experimental College, but we meet on campus, so I feel like a somebody after all these years. But, as usual, I digress!

The teacher has us doing a lot of free-writing. And since the focus of the class is memoir writing, most of the prompts revolve around our past. Now, I signed up for this, so I should be having "fun", right? However, I don't think my past is fun. I've spent many years trying to avoid it - see any of my previous posts. Therapist Lisa is certain that digging into what comes up is a good thing; that my sadness and detached feelings are due to me continually devising new and more innovative ways to distract myself from reality. She's probably right. Which is a good thing. Someone needs to know what I'm doing.

So. . . memoir class this week had prompts surrounding "Home". I dug into it with a little trepidation, I must confess. One of the reasons for that became clear when we did a cluster map around the word. I spent the entire time remembering all the places I've lived. When we finished, I'd come up with twenty. Twenty homes in roughly forty years. Well, a little over forty. I'm not saying how much over.

It makes sense then, that I am ambivalent over the concept of Home.

Here is the first free-write:

At this stage in my life, home is both a place I've made for my family, and a place I long to be. This home, the home in Seattle, is keeping me from the one I long for: heaven.

Psalm 73:25 says: "Whom have I in heaven but you? And there is nothing on earth that I desire besides you. "

That is how I feel, yet conflicted, because the family God and I have created is intensely a part of me, my heart if you will, and I can't imagine leaving them - especially now.

So here I am, my adopted self, in my adopted home town, with my adopted children and adopted dog, living in a borrowed house. Rooted to them, yet a traveler still. Only here a while.

My prayer for them is love and peace and joy and hope. My love for them is beyond words. My peace is in knowing I am where I should be. My joy is deep and quiet. My Hope is waiting for me, for them, for us. Waiting for us to come home.

Thank you for reading, peace be with you all.

Identity Crisis

Hi - I have to share something. I'm having an identity crisis.

See, I entered this blog contest (actually, you guys nominated me, but I solicited the nominations) called The Mother of All Bloggers. Cute name, right? And after getting nominated, I started thinking about it.

I've never actually labeled myself, or my blog. I just kind of write about where I am at the time I sit down in front of this keyboard. On rare occasions, I've had something extra to talk about (like the Mentoring Project), but usually, I don't edit myself overmuch.

Entering this contest has caused me to be tempted to want to win this contest. This led to me "checking out the competition", and reading some really neat blogs. The thing of it is is, first of all, we are all different types of bloggers. There are some mom blogs that are funny accounts of daily life being a mom (and let's face it, there's TONS of material) They had me rolling! There are some that focus on stuff like finding bargains and give-aways (neat concept, actually didn't know they were out there). There are "Christian" mommy bloggers, mommy book reviewer bloggers, mommy travel bloggers...

You get my drift? There's a whole world of mommy bloggers previously undiscovered by moi.

Me, I don't know where I fit in. I had to provide three categories for my blog to sign up for the Facebook Network app for blogs. I was seriously hard-pressed to narrow it down to three.

My writing comes from a pretty broad place. I'm an "empty-nester", I could write reams about how that's shaping up in my life - yet I'm still parenting three boys. I have special needs children, there are multiple facets to that experience - from the daily realities of meds, doctors, equipment, therapies, etc. to how it feels to sit beside your six year-old's hospital bed and tell God, "It's okay, you can take him now".

I'm a single parent - have been for twenty years - I remember the early years when it was just me and my two "original" children. How freakin' scary that was, how much I needed God because He really was all we had. I also am living that life now, with all that time under my belt, knowing you actually can have a son turn out pretty awesome without a dad, and a beautiful, well-adjusted nineteen year old daughter who doesn't hate you. Yet, I'm still raising this batch alone...

I'm a Christian. Struggling and fighting for my relationship with Jesus. Trying to keep it real and honest between Him and me, and bring my heart right.

I'm a daughter. Abandoned, adopted, alone.

I'm a foster parent, and adoptive mom.

I'm a woman. I frequently deny that part of me, but it's pretty much a done deal. I get lonely, I'd love to be wanted.

So, to try to narrow all that stuff down and laser-beam my ramblings in this blog...don't think I can. I write from my heart, and I hope what you read is helpful, or moves you in some fashion. That it benefits you, my readers, and that you find encouragement or hope, or just recognize that you are not alone in how you may be feeling.

I apologize in advance for not being easily categorized. Maybe I won't win any contests, but I will always be real about where I am. And I truly, truly hope that works for you.

Much love,

K

Feeling a Little More Authentic

Well, I have my initial outlining for Finding Joy done. That's a HUGE Woo Hoo. I'm realizing that while I really hate outlining, my brain just can't progress neatly along a logical path without some sort of bare bones plan. For me, what seems to be working is using Google Notebook (which I LOVE), to keep all my scattered thoughts in one easily accessible, internet-stashed, place. Then, I'm doing a simple flow chart of scenes.

I have my first chapter and prologue done, and the initial feedback is encouraging. Equally important, I like it!

Anyway...back to it.

TTFN and have a terrific weekend!