Reflecting

I've been sick for going on two weeks--lots of symptoms earlier, now down to a hacking cough that interferes hugely with sleep and a runny nose that has blown out our Kleenex supply.

Nonetheless, I swore I'd get to the pool today-- and I did.
As soon as I walked through the shower room door to the pool area a wave of warm humidity hit me. I breathed it in and it felt good. The pool water was a bit on the cool side, though. I took it very gently at first, then kept a moderate pace for about 35 minutes, cutting it short so I could shower, get dressed, and get home in time to chauffeur my 12. y.o. to a laser-tag birthday party.

Doing pool laps I would guess, is similar to any repetitive physical activity done without a companion. It gives one time to think. Usually what's troubling me is the first to bubble up in my consciousness as I move back and forth in my favourite lane, the one I refer to as "the grotto" because it features two large spouts that  constantly spit out water halfway across the lane, plus the lower diving board, which from the perspective of the swimmer, is an overhanging. The water is constantly churning as it's sucked in in a large intake area as well. I prefer a pool lane that is "unpoolish," as I prefer "real" water (lakes, the ocean, a river in a pinch) so my choosing the grotto has everything to do with putting me into a place other than the pool lane, that much more quickly.

I didn't cough once in the pool--in fact, no symptoms until I was done and taking a hot shower. Now however it's taken hold, though I'm trying to fend it off with a cup of Earl Grey tea (hot).

My recent entry about the lack of an identity of this blog garnered several comments/emails --which shouldn't have surprised me, but did. They were all encouraging and each writer very kind in his comments.

It seems we all question what we are doing "here" from time to time.
So much has been in the press about the blogging "phenomenon" (or is it just a natural offshoot of the Internet--a step beyond chat rooms/IRC or instant messaging?) Are we here to practice writing, try to make money or friends, speak out on matters that matter to us, express ourselves creatively, write for an audience?
Why does it matter?

I can't imagine putting in the time necessary to maintain a blog without some kind of strong investment in it. Perhaps that's why so many blogs are created and ultimately abandoned.

I'm not writing to find my voice. I'm not writing to make friends (though that is a pleasant side effect). I don't want to pour out my innermost crud onto this page--because it is simply that--crud.

I keep trying to make this place into a reflection of me and maybe that's where I'm mistaken. At this point in my life, I've done a lot of reflecting on me. I'm more interested in reflecting on what's going on around  and beyond me and to truly capture that here but is that even something within my abilities?*

Okay, I'll answer my own question. I can do it but I can't do it as well as say, Jack or  Vanessa  -- two real writers. I just don't have it in me. I've never been a creative writer, and even when writing factually one needs a creative way of  "speaking."  I can churn out the five W's and an H but that's pretty pedestrian and let's face it,  snooze-inducing.

Comments

[Cyn]

I'm really touched that you guys took the time for words of encouragement. I tend to take the least bit of that and run with it. :D

:hugs: all 'round. :) :) :)

--Cyn

[Sean]

yes cyn,

i agree with jack whole-heartedly. it isn't so much the creative voice as the doing it that really seems to make a difference for me. why blog? why do anything--read, swim, run, talk, play an instrument, sing, etc. etc.? just because. and in that just because maybe we can stop the judging of ourselves and let things be. as jack says, you do have a strong voice, and the alternative is unthinkable.

cheers--!

:)

[Jack]

Every writer has self doubts. Blog writing is torment. We write. We post. We immediately love it, then hate it. A comment is written, "I love it," so we love it again. We want more feedback but none comes, so we hate it once more. I can't imagine a more neurosis-inducing pastime.

I think your stories are great, Cyn. Keep them coming. You have a strong voice. Nurture it. The alternative is unthinkable.