Fallen Woman (Photo credit: Mr Jaded)

Why am I blogging? I’ve talked about this before, some here, and some in comments on other people’s blogs, but I want to explore this again. I am not a writer, a blogger, a mom, a special needs mom, a wife, a friend, a reefer, a dog walker, a poop inspector, a New Yorker, a vegetarian. I am all that–and a bag of salt and vinegar chips on the side.

Broken doll (Photo credit: noii’s)

Any parent or teacher is familiar with how a young child’s world is rocked if they run into their preschool teacher outside of the classroom or school. Developmentally, it’s appropriate. “Mrs K outside of her role in my life?” Shock, maybe even outrage. But how much do we really outgrow that stage? Different in a small town, maybe, where people often play dual, triple, or quadruple roles in someone’s life.  In a city, it’s common enough to not be able to place, or maybe even not notice, the cashier you smile at every day in the supermarket if you run into them on the street.

I’m not sure I’d call myself whole, but all my parts are here. I’m not striving for sainthood.  Do I try to be a decent person? Sure. Do I care about others? Absolutely. Do I want to eliminate my own needs, desires, and emotions in order to serve others? No.  Do I wish I could be 100% positive 100% of the time? No.  I want to be me, and hopefully reach others, by being me.  Writing, whether it’s fiction or non, poetry or prose, is about making people think and feel, reaching in and reaching out. Not whether or not it makes the reader feel “good.”

Human beings are complex creatures. We’re complex even in ways that are different from one another.  In my mind, that’s a positive.  I appreciate people who have a similar viewpoint to mine, but I also appreciate those with a different viewpoint. Take a look at my blog <<<<< roll on the left. I enjoy and read all of them. Some are informative, some are funny, some snarky, some sad, some are about embracing grace and joy; many are deep and meaningful emotional journeys, regardless of the style in which they’re written.

The person I know who I would consider closest to a candidate for sainthood happens to be a priest. I would give or do anything he asked, because he is that inspirational. When did I first become such a devotee? When I heard the word “fag” come out of his mouth.  Not used as a weapon, slur or condemnation, but in acknowledgement of the raw pain and frank toughness of the lives of so many of the young people he helps.  A word many of them have been beaten with in an attempt to negate their desire for more, for lives that could hold different possibilities. I don’t hold him in such regard because he is “divine,” but rather, because of his humanity.

For all the carrying on about thinking outside of the box, I see a whole lot of people resent when they see someone step outside of the box they’ve placed them in, and proceed to work at chastising them back into submission.

If you’re reading this, or anything else of mine, and disagree because you’re striving for perfection, God bless. I’m trying for human.

Paris 2e “manequins” to be dressed – 2007 (Photo credit: Julie70)