Writing About Writing About Writing

Brother. I can't keep up with myself and my ever changing, evolving mind. I meant for this blog to be a bit more focused than past efforts. Originally, I set out to do something that would help other people. That's why I started with breastfeeding as a topic. I thought maybe I could be an advocate, writing about ideas that have worked for me in my own life. Increasingly, however, I keep finding myself returning to myself. Luckily, I still haven't advertised this blog in any way, so even though it's fully public, it's not like anyone is paying attention. I kind of wish someone would pay attention. But, I also know that with the way the internet works, no sooner are people reading than they are critiquing, so maybe it's kind of nice that I'm still anonymous while I work these things out. I noticed some mistakes in my last post, but I don't feel like backtracking tonight.

I did show this blog to my husband a few posts ago, with some trepidation. But no sooner had I walked away than he had closed the window. My feelings were a little hurt. But to be fair, he had his own blog not that long ago, and I didn't follow his very closely, either. I guess that's how artistic pursuits go.

I still like this writing thing when I manage to sit down and get started. I've just been too tired most nights to make the attempt. I think maybe it's good, too to let my brain do a little bit of idling here and there. Or maybe that's just an excuse? I've browsed through other people's blogs, and one thing I noticed is that a bunch of them begin with the line "I haven't written for a while. Been busy."

I'm definitely on some kind of seeking questing thingy. I just went through a month of semi-vegetarianism, due to the influence of Peter Singer and his practical ethics. Then I read a book that argued the opposite tack; it was pretty terrible, but I nevertheless swung back to omnivorousity.

Now, this week I'm on some odd religious kick; I've been listening to K-LOVE, the local Christian radio station. This is pretty strange, considering that I'm an atheist. I feel like I'm listening for something, but I don't know what. I'm becoming practically superstitious (witness my sudden interest in things like IQ scores and astrology) especially when by myself. I keep telling myself I'm rational, but there's no kidding about that while I continuously flirt with mythology, superstition, and occultism. I just happen not to believe in any of it.

So today I joined an atheist message board, and that was entertainment enough for a slow work afternoon.

If you've read any of the other bits, you might understand why I sometimes feel more than a little nuts. It's just that I have this energy. Endless, restless, intellectual curiosity. I don't have the desire to say, run a marathon. The energy is in my body, but even burning the physical energy just doesn't free my mind.

And what about helping people? I don't know why I want to help people particularly, given that I actually seem to want them to sort of let me be. Please, just let me alone to go about my strange wanderings. I guess if I'm going to be deep and meaningful, then the phrase "meaningful work" comes to mind. What I mean is that I have a job now, but I don't find it particularly satisfying. So I keep wondering if I could do something a little more suited to my interests and abilities. I was hoping that writing might be it. It's not like this particular bit of writing is designed to bring in any income, though.

I know. I'm rambling. This happened last time in the unsatisfying attempt to pin down the question of shame. The more in earnest I am about a topic, the harder a time I have being serious and having a coherent point. The clarity is inverse to the felt-ness of the topic.

I guess it would be nice to be useful. I don't feel all that great about what I do. I do it anyway, because I have children and a husband to take care of. So I am useful. I just mean it would be nice to be useful at writing. It's not enough to just write. I guess I need to start looking out for things beyond my everyday experience.