If high school taught me anything, it’s that I don’t need anyone.
That moment when your author pours her heart out on social media, letting spill a wellspring of emotions and speculations, tangent thoughts, claiming verbs, and resonates so acutely with the reader, the universe weeps.
I’m just not that kind of author, I guess.
Something you may be able to relate to is I was occasionally bullied as a child. I think most people are in some fashion or another. I was ugly and ignorant and not very interesting to the general public girl (or boy, for that matter.)
It always hurt to be excluded from activities. It’s something you can’t force. A teacher can’t make the other kids like you. It just doesn’t work that way. Inviting yourself just turns the whole event sour.
I have found my tribe over the years. We’re a select group of silly individuals. Some of us believe in fairies, some in sports. Some of us are writers, some are tv bingers, but we’re all dreamers. We’ve connected in a judgement-free zone.
Something happened at my day job. It’s been going on for awhile and triggered some deep rooted isolation in my soul. I still feel like that middle schooler some days. And isolation still hurts the same as it did back then.
I don’t need anyone, but I still want to feel included.
After battling all morning between writing and not writing, I had initially decided not to write today. Partially because it’s a holiday. Mostly because I temporarily lost my notes for today…
But I thought I would sit my butt down and write something for the sake of the challenge. Of course, now I have foggy food brain. Don’t you just love American holidays?
There is always drama when it comes to family holidays–and that drama is doubled when there is a divorce involved. Even if both members are cordial, the guilt is a hard reality to knock. Will I hurt someone’s feelings if I go with one and not the other? Why should I be one the coordinate events because they cannot decide? And I’m done mediating. I did that enough as a child, now I refuse to be the go between. They both have their own phones, they can call–or text. How easy is texting?
It is not that awful. My parents made the divorce as civil and quiet as a divorce can be. But they are both still bitter, and the issues written above still apply.
Now it is Easter and far more important events are unfolding. Resurrection Sunday. My Savior lives.
I read a lot of blogs.
A lot of blogs.
Usually the fun, entertaining ones of people rambling about their fun, entertaining lives. Mostly educational blogs involving writing, mental health living, or the latest and greatest of those blogs that becoming huge and circulate the entire planet of the English speaking cultures. You know of which I speak. You’ve probably read them, too.
I read more blogs than I admittedly realize.
You see, when you’re working at a hair salon and the phones forget how to ring and there are no clients penciled on the books, the cyberworld of blogs becomes your best friend.
Sorry, I won’t give you free hair advice. Not because I’m stingy, or uppity, But because I can’t see what your hair looks like.
As a fantasy fiction writer, I often wonder what people have to write about in their average day in life. I’ve seen such posts as work drama, family drama, life events drama, boss drama, craft drama, and religious drama. A lot of stuff happens during my days….but I honest to goodness do not have the ambition to write them out. Half of the time I can’t remember what happened to start the chain of events, or how it was resolved for that matter.
I’ve always had people telling me to write about my life, but I haven’t even lived my life to know enough about writing it. Besides, I’ve tried. I can’t do it.
Ever notice how some people ramble on in their blogs? And it’s the funniest stuff you’ve ever read in your life. How do they do that? Funny stuff happens to me all the time, but I don’t write about it.
Although at work today, I made a classic blunder. My coworker asked if a client was coming in this week, because she switched her rotation to every other week. So I replied with “I feel like she called and said she wasn’t coming…”
Turned out she did come.
There are even super cool people at the salon I could write about, but I don’t.
I don’t because I know I couldn’t do it justice. Or if I forget something and try to fill it with made up drama, I feel like a liar. Because people reading it who know me (and who were there) will know that’s not how it went down.
It’s much better to create a world of my own making in which I can do anything I please. No one will be the wiser if I forget a line and recreate it.
No one at all.
But people these days want the real deal. They want quality. They want to know there is someone just as messed up as they are or who have just as crappy jobs too. I don’t. Have a crappy job, I mean. I love my job.
Except the retail one…… Retail. Kills. Everything. (If you could read that in the evil Joker’s voice that would be great).
I think this is where today’s Christians are failing in their witness. People want to see people in the raw. Christians want to be perfect.
And let’s face it–nobody can ever be perfect.
Except Jesus. He’s awesome.
Christians strut about like painted peacocks on pretty pedistals, expecting their peers to fawn over them and their ‘lessers’ to grovel at their feet.
It’s true. I see it every day.
Non denomination. Like, is that even a thing? What is that?
Oh wait….that’s me. Hah.
If Christians washed feet, visited the lonely, ate dinner with outcasts, and did not turn anyone away, they would be living the example of Jesus. If they prayed in gardens, quoted scripture, and trained up disciples, they would model His ministry.
Instead they slander ‘the enemy’, act like bigots, riot, lynch people, cuss out their neighbors, sleep around, lie, and steal.
Self-proclaimed Christians do those things all the time. Then they go to church on Sunday and sing Hallelujah.
That leaves a bad taste in your mouth, doesn’t it?
Listen, if you could do one thing–one little thing for me…don’t…don’t listen to those Christians. They’re not Christians. They are leading you astray. They are not good people to exemplify.
If anyone causes one of these little ones–those who believe in me–to stumble, it would be better for them if a large millstone were hung around their neck and they were thrown into the sea.