Finders, Keepers: My Search for Myself in My Writing

I just had the pleasure of meeting a client who writes a blog about hamburgers. No more complicated than his musings on the finest in American fare, his blog is actually quite impressive without claiming to be anything it's not. He happened to know I was a blogger from some previous encounter he had a with a reader and went on to tell me that he "just has a blog" and that it's "nothing real and fancy" like mine is.  Funny, I thought. Of course, as this gentlemen was telling me about his blog, I was standing there, ruminating over how not-so-real-and-fancy my supposedly "real" blog was growing to become. A casualty of neglect, the month of October has seen hardly one blog post from me, with the exception of this one on "letting happiness find you." Yeah, I'd say I've been doing a lot of that this month, that whole "letting happiness find me" thing.  For some reason, nowhere in there was I prompted to open my non-work laptop and write a new blog post despite my quiet longing to do so. As is quite common for me, I had the desire to write, but no words I could find to write down.

I'd like to think of this post now as the "where I've been" post. You know, like the Christmas card you get from your Auntie every holiday season that details the every report card, triumph and sports trophy received in your family over the year. I won't go into too many details, suffice it to say that perhaps there aren't any. Except maybe one...

I notice the direct correlation between a certain personal life event and my absence from The Light Files and it's one of those things where I feel like if I don't tell you what's going on with me, then I can't really write to you because I won't have anything authentic to say. And I'm afraid to tell you what I'm about to tell you, especially considering that I've formerly written on loss and heartbreak and dating in spite of that heartbreak (or heck, because of that heartbreak). And I've written about negotiating what to do when you get home from work on a Tuesday and you're single as you have been for several months so you're trying to do anything, and I mean anything, to prevent yourself from picking up the phone and calling that one guy you  know you shouldn't be calling but who you probably will call if you indulge yourself in that "sushi and wine date" you made with your BFF so you somehow will yourself to leave your phone at home and pray your buzz will have ended before you're within inches of that horrid device and still technically capable of making one more poor decision with that one same guy. Yes, I've written about all of that. I write about all of that. So what do I write about when...I've fallen in love?

It's a foreign concept really, this whole "getting what you wish for" thing. Surely I've made many a list of what prince charming would look and act like if he were to walk through my front door. I've made choices to bail on the wine part of sushi and wine night, so as to maybe increase my odds of actually making a few more positive decisions that might attract someone positive into my life. But then what? What happens when a man certainly resembling the one you've been imagining suddenly appears?

My boyfriend (yes, I get to say that now...boyfriend), was musing last night that it's not about getting what you want when you ask for it - it's what you do when you finally do get it. Having an identity as a writer is such an important part of being a writer in the first place, so when being a writer is being single, is tearing your hair out when you send that damn text message you know you shouldn't have sent and probably wouldn't have if you'd only waited a few more seconds longer for the urge to pass, what is one to write about when for the first time in about two years, they're no longer single?

Well, here's the thing folks: I certainly have less to worry about these days when I'm summoned for sushi and wine night, but I haven't changed a bit. Okay, fine, I have changed, in good ways actually (love tends to do that), but if I'm not battling myself over a text message I've come to find I'm certainly still doing it over something else. I'm still me, I'm just getting used to something new. It doesn't change the writer, it just might change the writing...only a little bit though.

My hope for myself and for anyone reading this today is that I, that we, can continue to be ourselves and to do what makes us happy even when the winds of change are blowing. Even when it's like a damn tornado out there. These things we come back to, they are our safe ground, a place that will always be there. Most importantly, no matter what changes in our lives, we are always with us. No matter what may alter, we are still singers, actors, whatever we are, we are still always it.

And in my case, I needn't bow my head in shame when someone writes in their hamburger blog more often than I do: I can pick up my head, pick up my pen, and simply begin to write again.