It’s the cold, lonely, quiet, moody days that make me want to blog.
Oh, sure, every time I pull something I’m excited about out of the oven, I think about how I’d like to share it. G-d knows I take enough low-quality, awkwardly-going-for-kinda-artsy-but-then-I-gave-up pictures. Everyone I’m Instagram “friends” with knows too, for that matter.
But there are so many people who do that so well. Yes, they each had to start somewhere. But I’m a typical twenty-something, remember? We don’t want to “start somewhere.” We want to find what we’re already, naturally amazing at and have it all come easily. Forget hard work and awkward beginnings. Forget improvement-we’ll know it’s right when we start off perfect.
Ok, I’m simplifying a little. Glossing. Of course I know–we all know–that hard work is invaluable and unavoidable; the options for success might just be work hard or fail. But it IS hard to find the energy to enter at the very bottom and believe in yourself enough to slowly, steadily, carve out a spot. Especially in fields so very wide.
Anyway. It would seem that for now the purpose of this blog is to soften the edge where anxiety, self-doubt, and boredom meet. To meet me in those moments when I’ve already talked my head off (really, typed my fingers off) but still feel unsettled, tired, alone. That’s the only time I want to write, really.
It’s a way of breathing into discomfort, I guess, and yes, I stole that phrase from my yoga teachers (thank you). It’s a place to process when I’m not quite ready to deal and change but know that I need to stop whining to anyone within a two foot radius of my cell phone’s invisible network channels–i.e. everyone whose phone number I have. (And yes, network channels is the official term for them.) To sit with life and see if I can’t make myself feel a little better just by being.
In the more restorative yoga classes I’ve been taking recently we’ve been practicing pigeon pose, a hip opener, using bolsters to help us ease into the otherwise deep stretch. For now, this blog is my bolster, my toe dipped in the water until I feel comfortable enough to commit and dive in.
Maybe what I’m really writing is a blog about growing up. (Which means we’ve solidly entered the young-adult (non)fiction category.)
Maybe there will be brownies and kale frittata here soon. Or musings on yoga and Judaism. Thoughts about being first-generation American. Anxiety about what it means to be an adult but not quite ready to take care of yourself and make decisions with consequences. A mix of all of the above.
I guess the nice thing is how endless the possibilities are. We’ll just have to wait and see.