Here we are again. Another blank word document waiting to be filled up. Filled up with what? What am I supposed to fill it up with? The fact that I can touch type and fill it up the way I do still amazes me. Who would have thunk a couple years ago that I would be sitting here, not looking at the keypad, typing like I knew what I was doing? Surely not me. Certainly not me. Me? Are you kidding? I was always a hunt and pecker typer, with no rhythm or style or flair. I had no desire to learn how to touch type, and the couple times that my wife convinced me to try, I had to stop after five minutes due to extreme hand crampage.
Is crampage a word? It sounds like it should be. Let’s see.
Nope. Mr. Spell checker dude person says that it isn’t a word, and neither is thunk. Oh well. Who’d a thunk?
Meanwhile, back at the ranch, I am still typing. I am still staring off into the darkness, not looking at the screen, or the keypad, or anything in particular, but I am always looking. I guess I am very fortunate that I was blessed with vision for nearly fifty years. Half a century of seeing things. Half a hundred of building up storage bins full of fantastic memories and videos. Twenty-Five times twice of wonderful colors, amazing scenery, topped off with fantastic smiles, all for me, and all mine. I can go get them whenever I want. I don’t need a hall pass, or a receipt, or a voucher, or an ID. They’re all mine, and they will always be stored safely away, just for me.
I am very fortunate that I have been able to learn how to touch type. It has been such an incremental part of my independence, my sanity,” if there is such a thing”, and my purpose, as most days it seems that it just might be. I love to write. I love to think of what to write. I love reading what I have written when I am done writing it. I have always loved to write, but just never wrote.
I have spent a lot of time over the course of my life doing things that I felt a surge of passion for. I thought that these things, when I was doing them, were the be all, and end all of having purpose. Most of these trendy, time sensitive things are, for the most part, mere memories now, and I can probably say that I don’t remember just about most of them. They came, and then, there they were, gone. Out of sight, out of mind. Man, I wasted so much time and money on so many things that ended up being shoved to the back of the closet, or jammed into the bottom drawer, along with all the other crap that ended up just taking up space.
Well, here I go, on another one of my skewed, non organized, tangent oriented, brain cramped posts. Hang on, because I have no idea where this one will end up.
I seem to have a hidden story, deep inside the hidden chambers of my muddled mind. I have a story, as we all do. I have a story filled with glitter, and pain and smiles filled with tears. I have a story that is uniquely mine, but belongs to everyone I know. I have a story that fills up my days and carries me through my nights. I have a story that will stay with me and keep me company, as it has, for a long, long time.
As I write things, I know for certain that I get the most joy out of writing about things that have happened to me, because of me, around me, and in spite of me. I love to write about family, and sometimes, when I read back what I have read, I take a deep breath and start to cry. Most times, it is because of an overwhelming feeling of joyous love. It is because of an emotion, so strong that it picks me up and takes me back to that time that I am writing about. It’s almost like I am right there, back through time, feeling it all, once again, fully, and completely. It’s like I have been transported through time and I can see, hear, smell and feel it all, once again, as I did on the day it happened. It’s a wonderful feeling, and if I never feel anything again, I will be the better for being able to have the countless experiences because of it.
I have always been an emotional, passionate person I guess. I get caught up in certain things, events, moments in time that grab hold of me and squeeze me tight. It’s like someone is giving me a big old bear hug, and I can’t seem to catch my breath. I get a big lump in my throat, my chest starts to hurt, and my eyes well up with water. I think also, that I am able now to hear certain things, certain ways, with a whole different perception. I hear certain characteristics in people’s voices, and it’s amazing how subtle differences in someone’s tone or mannerism of speech can have such an effect on my own feelings and perceptions. It’s what I do now when someone is talking to me. I no longer can see the facial expressions which used to help me process it all. Now, I have to rely on what I hear, and take it from there. I hear it all now, where as before, I usually dropped off the concentration table shortly after starting a conversation with people. I would wander off, aimlessly looking for a way back to reality, often having to settle for a nod of the head, or an, “Oh ya”, or a simplistic, “wow”, which I used to hate to admit being the bearer of, but it’s the truth.
I hear it all now, and although I do go off on my own little trips, I seem to be able to snap back into the conversation quicker than before. Much quicker than before, with time to spare.
Where was I?
Ok, I’m back now, so to speak. Smile.
It’s like before, when I could see, I was always in a hurry to get away from a conversation, as though there was some other place I was supposed to be. I don’t feel that way any more, and when I seem to start to fall back into my old traits, I catch myself and tell myself to relax and enjoy the moment. After all, it is my moment, and I need to make the most of all of them from this point on.
Well now, this little piece has definitely taken a left turn, followed by a sharp right. I really can’t even remember what direction I started to go in, all three times. I’m sure when I read this back; I’ll shrug my shoulders and just keep on being.
Now then, I wonder what I should write about now.