"To Begin With: Everything."

Disclaimer* This - all of it - will never be curated to appeal to most and will - more often than not, break any and all rules/guidelines that talented, serious writers follow and hold dear. This is for me and can be for you, incase you're feeling like there's just not enough to consume.  

I begin this blog post in a mental and emotional state, so overflowing with "--ness" that it is impossible to truly express in any art form. How can one person feel and think so much, not be able to explain any of it (well), and still maintain an outward sense of calm. Don't ask me, despite having the ability, I do not have the answer. Happiness, gratefulness, scared-"ness", and all of the "nesses" are exponentially multiplying. With every "ness" charged word I get out, five more bloom. 

I have never been the strongest writer. I use grammar incorrectly, I have an obsession with commas, I often misspell words, and even after the third proof read there are still mistakes left within the writing that will always manage to elude my questionably dyslexic eye. I bounce from one point to the next. I sit down with an initial intention of the writing and without fail, find myself scratching my head, re-reading from the top to try and see where it was I was going with it all. That being true, the meaning and value of the expression of racing thoughts and emotions in the written form is very dear to me, and I feel an extreme urgency at times to pull a pen and paper from thin air to write the nesses that flutter into my ears. What is it for? To save them for later, to look back, consider; reconsider, share, question, and hopefully, to understand. 

Last night, 3am at a familiar bar full of unfamiliar people, I heard something but I can't remember what it was. All I can remember is looking over both shoulders for something to write on, and giving up after seeing that the bar napkins were  black, and no pen I might find in this dark building would be able to ink the thing, so I let it go, only to hope that after the third gin and soda (never tonic) I might recall it in the morning and be able to save it for later. I've tried using my phone "notepad" to catalog these urgently budding thoughts and I have found there is nothing that feels more wrong and unnatural than pulling out a cold, bright, digital device associated with anti-social, social-selfishness, and unawareness. So: unless pen and paper, no live-cataloging. Instead, it will all be made pretty and digital up here on "the blog" after a thoughtful sit down session with all the ness flowing from my brain, down my spine, through my fingers and onto the keys where they become tiny black pixels on a bright white canvas for all to see; as permanent as ink yet as fleeting as a daydream.