Driven

I know people who are driven,
almost by impulse,
to compose music
or write beautiful prose,
or sketch,
or create poetry.

I'm sad to admit
that I just want to talk,

...so I  blog.

OK, Jodi, Merinda, Mom, and Shelley,

You can read my thoughts again

If you promise not to expect enlightenment
or insight,
or optimism,
or humour,
or consistency,
or everything in the form of a question.

OK?  Ok. 

Every Now and Then...

I want to blog even though I have nothing to say.
.
.
.
.
There. I said it.

A Year Of Questions Is About Long Enough,

Don't You Think?

(Thanks for reading. )

Were All Those Comments Just to Prove

That I Have a Readership of Six?

What's That About?

I have an irrational, disproportionate discomfort with being the last person to comment or ask a question before the end of a class.

In high school and college I would start watching the clock at about ten minutes before the class ended, and no matter how badly I wanted to clarify something, add my insight or answer a question that seemed to be stumping everybody else, I wouldn't let myself do it. Because it might be the last comment of the class. Gasp! And oh dear if it turns out that the question I asked 16 minutes before class ended winds up being the last question. Uugghh! Now I go through this same clock-watching exercise in Sunday School and Relief Society. Thank goodness I wear a watch.

This morning as I suggested a brilliant name for my cousin's fish on her blog, I realized that I kind of have the opposite thing going on for me in cyberspace. If I'm not the first to comment, I pretty much won't do it.

I think it might boil down to the pressure of having to be clever. I can't cope with it. (It's why I'm grateful to have a blog readership of four.)

If I ask the last question it will be what echoes in everyone's brains as they walk out of class. Like saving your bacon for the last bite so you walk away from the table with a bacon-flavored tongue (yumm), but in a bad way. If I comment when others have already typed their witty, loving, insightful words, well... I guess I just won't.

What does this say about my personality? Maybe I should work on this? Well, add it to the list.

Who Reads This Blog, Anyway?

I'm just curious, and I'm not smart enough to figure out the IP info on StatCounter.

How Much Longer Can I Scrutinize My Life...

...Voice My Insecurities, and Question Everything?

I'm going to have to come up with a new Blog theme.

Why Am I Blogging? (Part IV)

It's like a grocery list for my questions.

You know how when you realize you need sour cream or cleanser or cinnamon it nags at the back of your brain until you write it down?

Oh, no. What was it that I was supposed to remember at the store.
Was it sage? Baking soda? Tissues?
Why didn't I write it down?

Even when I write it on a scrap of paper doomed to be lost long before the grocery store trip, I still feel better. And that annoying voice saying: Cleanser. Cleanser. Don't forget the Cleanser. You're going to forget, I know you are, finally leaves me alone.

It's that same way with all of these questions plugging up my mind.

Blog on scrap of paper and have done with it.

How Do I Respond To The Wonderful Comments People Make On My Blog?

Do I make a comment on my own blog?

That seems a little ridiculous. And there's no guarantee that they'll see it.

Do I just read it and smile and feel loved and move on?

No connection at all?

This is what I said was so dangerous about blogging in the first place. You have relationships without actually conversing. Conversations that are two one-way streets.

Well, Mindy's favourite aunt, I know of you from decades ago. Please adopt me, and stalk me, if you'd like. I'm not promising anything... ummm... well... anything too promising, but check it out if you want.

And to friends who somehow found me out, despite my attempts to be a closet blogger, just be gentle and realize that I write under the delusion that no one is actually reading this stuff.

And to my cousins who write me witty and loving comments. I guess a one-way street is better than no road at all. I love you.

(And to my mother, I think it's time to get yourself a Google Account so that you can stop being "Anonymous" when you comment.)

Don't I KNOW Anything?

I knew when I began this blog that I had more questions than answers, but I had no idea the discrepancy would be so dramatic.

The tally at the top has been unnerving me for weeks now.

So, I've been wracking my brain to find Answers. I'm coming up very short.

I don't know what color to paint my living room.
I don't know how many kids to have.
I don't know what to pack for lunch that anyone will eat.
I don't know how to both simplify and magnify my church callings.
I don't know what I want to be when I grow up.
I don't know where I put my keys.

But, there are a few things I do know. There aren't many, I've realized, but they're the big ones. The answers that really matter, I have. I have them and I know I have them.

Here's One. Answer #10--I Know That God is the Father of My Spirit and the Creator of My Body and that it is my potential to be like Him.

and Answer #11--I Know What Matters Most in Life. I don't do it a lot of the time. That's the problem, of course. But I know what it is.

and Answer #12--I Know That Heavenly Father Speaks To His Children. He speaks to prophets. He spoke to Joseph Smith. My life is happy because of the truths He teaches.

The disparity between Questions (193) and Answers (12) is still ridiculous, but if this were a weighted formula, I think I would be coming out ahead.

Instead of

Q + A = Me,

Something like

Q + KA = Me, where K = ∞.

Is Blogging a Complete Waste of Time?

Or is it journalling, scrapbooking, and keeping in touch with family all rolled into one?

Should I Bother Buying a Baby Book?

Baby Burrito began to smile yesterday.

I realized that a dutiful mother would write this down somewhere. Does blogging count?

Naomi has a baby book. It is 3/4 full of humorous anecdotes, critical-to-remember dates, and adorable pictures.

Eliza has a baby book because I was not going to be one of those mothers who only kept a record of her eldest's life. I feverishly wrote in Eliza's baby book every possible moment so that it would be robust like her sister's. Somehow it still only ended up about 1/3 full.

Chas has a baby book because when Eliza was born I was given two. It has three entries, and I don't know where it is. I comforted myself over the last five years by saying that, Although, I was not keeping a record of his life, I was doing the things that really mattered, like snuggling with him and drawing with chalk on the driveway. I also committed to memory every significant date so that I could go back in and fill out the baby book as soon as I had a minute. Needless to say, all those life-altering milestone dates have long since slipped into brain oblivion.

So, do I even bother buying Mark a baby book? I know I won't fill it out. The real question is, Will the guilt be greater if I don't buy the book at all or if I own it and it sits unused on my shelf?

This time I'm going to console myself with, Boys won't care about their babyhood the same way girls do. (If you disagree with this statement, you are invited to keep your comments to yourself.)

If I Bury A Question Way Back Here...

...Will Anyone Ever Find It?

Why Do I Always Leave My Blog Hanging After Downer Posts?

Sorry.

Are You Giving Up Blogging?

A friend asked me this yesterday.

The truth is, I just realized that more than 2 people are actually reading this blog and now I'm completely intimidated to continue posting my nonsense and negativity, and insecurities and confusion online. That's what I get for coming up with a question theme.

But, I think I'm going to ignore all of you and forge ahead, because I think questions really do illustrate the insides of my brain and I would like a record of it years from now.

So please stop looking at it when you get bored or offended or weighed down by my weaknesses. I won't mind. I'll be relieved.

Are You My Mother?

If you are, you may be interested in my other blog.

Mom, click here.

What Will I Do When I Run Out Of Questions?

Give up blogging, of course.

Why Am I Blogging? (Part III)

"The desire to create is one of the deepest yearnings of the human soul. No matter our talents, education, backgrounds, or abilities, we each have an inherent wish to create something that did not exist before.

"Everyone can create. You don’t need money, position, or influence in order to create something of substance or beauty.

"Creation brings deep satisfaction and fulfillment. We develop ourselves and others when we take unorganized matter into our hands and mold it into something of beauty—and I am not talking about the process of cleaning the rooms of your teenage children.

"You might say, 'I’m not the creative type. When I sing, I’m always half a tone above or below the note. I cannot draw a line without a ruler. And the only practical use for my homemade bread is as a paperweight or as a doorstop.'

"If that is how you feel, think again, and remember that you are spirit daughters of the most creative Being in the universe. Isn’t it remarkable to think that your very spirits are fashioned by an endlessly creative and eternally compassionate God? Think about it—your spirit body is a masterpiece, created with a beauty, function, and capacity beyond imagination.

"But to what end were we created? We were created with the express purpose and potential of experiencing a fulness of joy. Our birthright—and the purpose of our great voyage on this earth—is to seek and experience eternal happiness. One of the ways we find this is by creating things.

"If you are a mother, you participate with God in His work of creation—not only by providing physical bodies for your children but also by teaching and nurturing them. If you are not a mother now, the creative talents you develop will prepare you for that day, in this life or the next.

"You may think you don’t have talents, but that is a false assumption, for we all have talents and gifts, every one of us. The bounds of creativity extend far beyond the limits of a canvas or a sheet of paper and do not require a brush, a pen, or the keys of a piano. Creation means bringing into existence something that did not exist before—colorful gardens, harmonious homes, family memories, flowing laughter.

"What you create doesn’t have to be perfect. So what if the eggs are greasy or the toast is burned? Don’t let fear of failure discourage you. Don’t let the voice of critics paralyze you—whether that voice comes from the outside or the inside.

"If you still feel incapable of creating, start small. Try to see how many smiles you can create, write a letter of appreciation, learn a new skill, identify a space and beautify it.

"Nearly a century and a half ago, President Brigham Young spoke to the Saints of his day. 'There is a great work for the Saints to do,' he said. 'Progress, and improve upon and make beautiful everything around you. Cultivate the earth, and cultivate your minds. Build cities, adorn your habitations, make gardens, orchards, and vineyards, and render the earth so pleasant that when you look upon your labors you may do so with pleasure, and that angels may delight to come and visit your beautiful locations. In the mean time continually seek to adorn your minds with all the graces of the Spirit of Christ.'

"The more you trust and rely upon the Spirit, the greater your capacity to create. That is your opportunity in this life and your destiny in the life to come. Sisters, trust and rely on the Spirit. As you take the normal opportunities of your daily life and create something of beauty and helpfulness, you improve not only the world around you but also the world within you."

(Dieter F. Uchtdorf, Happiness, Your Heritage)

http://lds.org/conference/talk/display/0,5232,23-1-947-37,00.html

Are There Answers?

This Comment was stolen from my cousin's blog, because I couldn't figure out how to find her to ask permission:

Nicola said... [about my cousin]
I love the way that you put things, especially the questions that you have. Honestly I think life would be boring if nobody ever asked questions. Because without questions and choices we could never truly grow.

Questions and Choices. Not Questions and Answers.
Maybe that is the Answer?