old habits die

old habits die hard. like writing. this is the third lifetime of my blog [but who's counting?] and i myself am curious at what may come out.

i think i've been writing in my head for the last 2 years, narrating my life as it has sauntered along. i'm honestly not sure why the narration never made it out of my head. maybe it felt like people stopped listening. maybe i felt average and boring. here's a weird one. maybe i stopped listening. maybe i stopped caring what i had to say.

it's a subtle tragedy when a person stops listening to her own heart.

i have found myself simply walking through an average life, narrating its predictably 'surprising' twists and turns. i have felt bombarded and beleaguered by facebook, by pinterest, by etsy. by blogs written by witty wives with the cleverest way to master the tasks of young motherhood. i have felt adrift in a sea of sameness, no longer able to separate myself from the repurposed barnwood culture of moderately young folks searching desperately to be validated and included in the 'cool' crowd. all in the name of simplicity and authenticity.

my brother says i write posts like this when i'm lonely. that could be. although, i do feel inclined to acknowledge that i'm a 'verbal processor' [and there's only so much one husband can 'process' with me, if you know what i mean?] sometimes i watch myself talking at him and i think 'stop. s. t. o. p. now. stop now. no seriously, just stop talking.'

that's why i like writing. it's like a pause button in the face of an aural barrage.

so maybe i'm lonely. or maybe there's just too much to process and i need something to grab onto. something to slow my racing thoughts. something to remind me of the eccentricity of joy in a life well lived, no matter how average and boring it seems.

here's a toast, to slowing down and speaking into vastness of oblivion.