What do you write about when you want your voice to be heard yet you don’t want your voice to completely define you?
I have a blog where I write about movies. I haven’t written there in a while. Writing about what other writers write about feels somewhat defeating. And while yes, criticism is important, and I love love love writing about movies and getting immersed in that world of storytelling, it never quite feels like “me.”
I can tell you about what isn’t “me,” but I’d have a much harder time explaining what IS “me.” I get frustrated that I can only define myself in the negative and not the positive. Then I get frustrated because maybe it isn’t actually negative to define yourself by what you are not instead of what you are? When do you dismiss society’s rules of governing your identity and just be “you.” Unless you’re a psychopath, does it matter?
I don’t think so.
So here I am, re-branding this blog a bit, tweaking it, and writing about what I want to most of the time – which is largely self examination – and food.
I recently watched a trailer for the movie ‘The Zookeeper’s Wife,’ and it was lovely and inspiring and had some of my favorite actors and the writing and cinematography looked breathtaking. It’s simply a story that needs to be told (especially in the political climate the US is facing right now). I just can’t bring myself to pore over the trailer and the movie in detail and produce a polished blog post. Maybe someone would read it, maybe not. So, instead I’m writing about not writing it. Probably WAY less useful.
So, I digress. What do you write about when you want to be honest and raw on an open platform, but you also want to keep some of your personal identity in tact?
Well, you probably just have a freakin’ journal at home and throw your laptop into the damn ocean.
I won’t do that. My hand cramps pretty quickly anymore holding a pen and the ocean is at least and hour’s drive away; so I’ll stay here and work through all of this.
I’d like to write about the processes of life. The good big ones. The exquisite little ones. The muddy ones. The ugly ones. The sad little asshole ones. And the just plain boring ones.
It would be nice to have one of those “mom” blogs that documents travel and life raising a small human alongside my husband. But that’s not me. I’m a mom, yes, but to write only about motherhood would be far from my truth. I’m a wife, yes, but I’d never put that on any kind of “bio.” Neither of those wonderful titles (wife, mom) define me at my core. And sometimes I feel guilty for that. Meh.
I’ll end this little excavation post (trying to dig stuff up and figure stuff out) here. Maybe next time I’ll talk about motherhood or wifedom or just simply, loving. Maybe I’ll talk about how I feel the head and the heart are too vast to love only one person at a time. Maybe I’ll talk about what I ate for lunch (hello, Thanksgiving is right around the corner!), or maybe I’ll just talk again about wanting to talk but not comprehending what to actually talk about.
Time is a flat circle and tacos are tasty.