It’s been hard for me to write lately ya’ll. Not because I don’t have anything to say. Not because I don’t have a ton of ideas, but because I’ve been afraid I don’t have the finesse to communicate them in the proper way…a lyrical way, a wordsmith-y way, an engaging way.
I guess it’s the perfectionist in me: If I can’t do what I want to do, I’d rather do nothing at all.
And so nothing is what you got.
Plus, I thought my last post was pretty darn good. Like, I don’t know what you thought of it, but as for me? I felt that piece! Writing it pulled at my heartstrings like I was experiencing the moment all over again.
When you do that once, you want to do it again – over and over and over again.
But than again, that’s the plight of a writer: The written word is only yours insofar as you’ve written it. After that, it belongs to the reader, for them to do with it what they may. Perhaps they’ll like it, perhaps they won’t. Perhaps they’ll feel inspired, perhaps they’ll be bored. Some will be engaged, yet others will ignore it.
That’s the way it goes.
Now to get to those flowers up there. Did you think they were just decoration for this post? Well, now that I think about it, I guess they can be that too. But when I bought them, it wasn’t with the purpose of decorating this post. Matter of fact, at the time, I wasn’t even aware of this post. I bought them because I so love the color orange. And when I saw them for only $6 in Albertson’s circular, I knew I had to have them. They were perfect to go on top of my orange file cabinet. Too much orange you say? Not so.
While they lasted, they were lovely to behold – a cheerful addition to my otherwise drab room. And I’m not even really that into flowers, but vibrant orange ones are hard to pass up. However before long, they began to wilt, some faster than others. One by one, I tossed the bad ones out until only a few remained. Those, I subsequently neglected – totally forgot about. One, for the most part, kept its shape. But there was another…
It began sprouting seeds with those little wispy parachutes, like dandelion poofs in my grandmother’s backyard, when I was a kid, that tempted me to pluck and blow them all over the place. Of course I did, you know, back then….Okay, this time too, and yes inside my room, where they landed on the carpet and had to be vacuumed, but that’s beside the point. The point is, now here they were again, rising from the reck of a withering flower(that’s a word right there), providing me with a bit of nostalgia I wouldn’t have readily thought of. And beauty. I also thought it was strangely beautiful.
So my other point is, you just never know.
As a writer, I don’t know which piece will connect with someone else, if any. All I can do is just write and hope.
Oh, and post.
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