When the light from the flame flickers on your face all you can do is submit to honesty.
Wednesday, February 29, 2012
Lets start with the obvious--It's been over half a year since I last posted. And with that, I might possibly be the worst blogger. Ever. Yet, whenever propositioned, and yes its a proposition not just an inquiry, of "Ericccca, when are you doing your next post?" I feel an imminent and powerful surge of guilt but just as quickly as it comes it quickly dissipates. Simply, I knew that I had nothing to say, even answering inquiries of my negligent posting as being the reason why. I had nothing to say. I have been in this awkward dichotomous place of being silent but still in continuous states of speech. I speak--but with every word feel a looming "Is this true? Do I know what I'm talking about?" I could reason that my disability with speech comes from both this metaphysical and literal place of transitioning I find myself in.
One friend told me to write about having nothing to say. Write about having nothing to say? I considered it. Still, I likened that to all the times I ever called exes to tell them that I would never be calling them again. And just like the times that I did that--if I wrote to say I had nothing to say I would be doing exactly what I was saying I would not be doing and at the same time trying to create an opportunity for something to change my mind. I would have been looking to use this cathartic place to miraculously help me articulate what I was feeling--instead of using this space to articulate what I already knew to be true. But that was just it, and still is, in this place of transition a definitive stagnant truth seems to be unattainable. So--I comfortably say I have no clue what I'm talking about. No clue. I think I can comfortably sit in this place because I am in an environment with such dogmatic people that I have grown tired of arguing just for arguments sake. It's an exhausting pursuit to be right all the time. Ironically, I think the same people that bark the loudest have the loudest internal voice saying "Is this true? Do I know what I'm talking about?" Or maybe, I am just projecting my internal voice onto them.
When I blog, all I know to be true is that the words I write are my truth and a product of where I am within the very second that it sparks in my brain reaches my fingertips to type and appears on the screen. It's a fleeting few seconds--and then that truth is either irrelevant or in the process of evolving. So, I come here only to say:
I say it in the same way that I first heard it. Carrie Bradshaw, of my favorite television series Sex and the City half sang it as she stood outside a store window looking down at some shoes she admired. I say it in the same way she did, whimsically, coyly. And I say that to all my readers who have missed my random musings. It's good to be back. "Hello, Lover."