I don’t consider how much is too much. I mean that’s not wholly true. I try and govern what I put out into the world against an internal TMI, what may land me on the news and things that are personal about those closest to me. Otherwise it’s fair game. Mental throw up, add a pic, press publish. Only once in a while does it feel like an email you wish you didn’t send. This blog doesn’t have that pull back feature.
I read a book last May by Mary Karr called the Art of Memoir. It at once made me feel incredibly presumptive about what I was doing with my writing as well as both eye opening and inspiring. Presumptive because when forced to say aloud that this is some form of memoir the hackles on my neck rise and fall like some sort of dog who comes charging out at a stranger only to turn back cowering when that stranger stomps and meets that fake onslaught head on.
It was eye opening because her writing is incredibly verbose. It immediately made me feel that my style is primitive and simple (I’ve since learned that’s a strength and my style), my profane short sentences rattling off machine gun style across the world wide webses with made up words and sometimes so poorly proofread that I have to edit in real time so as not to look like i don’t know the difference between your, you’re, too, to and so on.
It was inspiring because upon coming across it, I realized That despite my flaws, I had the one (maybe even two) thing(s) needed to garner eyes and to move small masses. Brutal honesty.
Honesty is in a word. A motherfucker. It’s the ultimate filter to life and pares down everything to it’s b core. Well it can if we learn from it. Being honest is the first step. Acting on what it reveals is the real change maker. It’s one thing to be able to look into the mirror and come to terms with something. It’s another to then cross the chasm of what those honestys reveal.
After a textbook like reading of Ms. Karr’s book I was recharged and ready to carry on. My writing isn’t wholly a memoir but there’s a lot similar about it. Per the usual, I focused on the honesty and kept up the over sharing. Regardless of what that aftermath looks like.
What I’m reminded of every few months if I look into the mirror from the outside is that there is a price to pay when we combine honesty and flippancy. There can be collateral damage. What I’ve also found is a disconnect between the written me and the walking around me. These posts are wide open. In person, I can come across quiet to the point of unapproachable and assholish. I am both of those people. Balancing them is something that I haven’t really learned because like my other large character flaw, I’ve never much considered them.
Just like the last 509 words this too will go out into the ether and by lunch I’ll have forgotten much of it. Today I know the why I had to get this out, but will I remember tomorrow? Or in three months?
Part of the morning process is coming to a realization. Most days I get there. Some days it’s of benefit to those that read and others it’s a throwaway thought. Some plastic grocery bag that held your fruit for the 9 minute drive home to be thrown directly into the landfill. If we are scoring at home the lesson is being brutally honest with ourselves so we can cross those daily internal chasms. Today I’m better having written all of this but I don’t need to give you a minute by minute diatribe of my morning.
I say it a lot. We know exactly what we need to do to improve or change. So the honesty in seeing those things is a part of the puzzle. It’s acting on that honesty that makes us better. Somehow sharing these self realizations helps me, but that’s my way and it’s a way paved with constant yield signs I need to take heed of. Sharing isn’t always caring. Sometimes it’s just self serving and holds no purpose.
#hugsandhi5s
