So, there’s a couple of new things going on with this posting…
First, I’m writing this in Pages, instead of my beloved MacJournal. Why? Not sure – some sort of need to be able to do more things and have more options right on the screen. So I’m trying it out. The issue will be how this goes from Pages to my blog (and from there to FB, although the delay from blog to FB sometimes takes days…). But if all works (or can be figured out easily), I’ll be able to add pictures and such right from the entry, instead of adding them later, which means never, since once I fling the thing out there I tend to go, “ah, good enough” and leave it.
So for you, dear reader, I try and improve your reading experience. After all, if you’re kind enough to wade through all this poopy, the least I can do is to try and make the scenery pretty. Pretty poopy. PRETTY poopy. Pretty POOPY.
Ah, how meanings can change with a different emphasis. Fun with words 101.
New thing #2… I’m typing this directly on the iPad screen, instead of using my beloved, thrice-worthy and totally best money I’ve spent for an accessory, wireless keyboard. I wish I could say this was by choice or decision, but alas… It’s a result of rushing out de doh this morning, and leaving the writing bag behind.
“Writing bag? WRITING BAG?? Wait a minute, sparky – aren’t you the dude who was going on and on, ad infinitum, ad nausium, world without end, amen, about not being a writer? And now you have a writing bag? Oi?”
Ya got me. Yes, I’m the dude.
I discovered that my Watson the Cat bag (the man purse, as Herself calls it) while cavernous, wonderful, and a good argument for women telling men to carry their own darn bags and quit saying, “honey, is there room in your purse for this?” (which never seems to stop me from jabbing her about the size and weight of her suitcase – oddly ironic, don’t ya think?)…
Where the heck was I going with that? Oh yeah…
The Watson bag seems to get a little ponderous when adding the keyboard, the extension cord, and on occasion, a wire music stand to hold the iPad while I hold the keyboard on my lap.
On. My. Lap. There’s a phrase I didn’t think I’d ever be using. It was a cool day when Vicki took a picture of me using a laptop as a LAPtop.
But I digress…
So putting all the extras into the Watson bag makes it heavy, and makes me reluctant to lug everything around when I may or may not find time to sit down and write. If writing is important to me, I have to get over my semi-lazy nature and make it easy to do. (The mechanics of it, that is – the writing itself? Not so much.) Thus, the writing bag. Happy now?
“Thrilled.” (Yes, that is a quote. I’ll even tell you what it’s from – The 5th Element. You’ll have to research the rest on your own.)
So I sit, typing on the screen. Doesn’t work well for a serious writer or someone who actually knows what they’re doing when typing, but using the non-patented Olson method of two or three fingers on each hand, and whoever is in the neighborhood gets the job, it works pretty well.
Yes, you would cringe to watch me type. The cringing would turn to confusion when you notice that I can type without watching my fingers. Auto-correct sometimes changes my meaning drastically, but the job gets done. I’m more accurate on the wireless keyboard than the screen, but typing happens in either case.
I are weird.
Semi-new thing #3 – I’ve actually become comfortable calling myself a writer.
“Wait a minute, sparky – aren’t you the dude who was going on and on, ad infinitum, ad nausium, world without end, amen, about not being a writer?”
I was afraid you’d mention that again. *sigh* Yes, I am the dude. Or, as the prophet said to King David, “Thou are the man.” Uff da.
In the wild ride these last 10, almost 11 months has been, a lot of things have shifted and changed…
I couldn’t eat eggs, then they came back. And I’m glad – I love eggs. “The greatest thing in the woild is a nice E.B.C. – egg on bagel with cheese, where the egg is nice and lean. They’re so perky. I love that.” (modified quote – when you’ve been playing the game as long as Herself and I, you do things to change it up.)
I loved pinto beans. Now, they taste bitter to me.
Used to think music was my primary expression. For the first time, I’m thinking it may not be.
Things have so much less importance. There are other concerns that mean much more to me.
I ride my trike, miles at a time, and am grinning at the end.
I scrape the car off while Herself is inside. She doesn’t like that, since she’d rather be moving than sitting, but she allows me to serve her every now and again.
And so on. Many changes, refocusing, learning new and casting aside old. Along the way, writing became not just something to do once in a while in a sad attempt to make people laugh or think on my blog (sad, because making people laugh and telling stories was a way for me to try and compensate for being obese… the stereotypical jolly fat man, playing the buffoon in public to hide the hated reality inside), but something I needed. I’ve written this before, but it’s so true – writing is where I trot out some of the things floating around in my head, take a look at them in the full light of day, learn which are lies so I can recognize them and reject them when they come around again, polish some of the others to become part of how I see my world, and admittedly, throw some of them out there just to make people laugh, smile and think. To see where the Lord wants to use my voice to encourage someone else or to challenge them in a non-threatening way. To hear from Him about things in my life that need to be polished or removed.
Writing is a place where God refines me and lets me share the process with you. It’s confusing sometimes, which is why I ramble into random thoughts and chase rabbit trails, it has me laughing out loud sometimes, because He knows that laughter is a great gift, it leaves me quiet and introspective sometimes, because He’s doing some tough work on my prideful heart, and it’s thrilling sometimes, because He uses my little words and wanderings to speak truth and encouragement into other lives. That’s the best part.
Yes, I art the dude. I’m a writer, a storyteller, a musician, a maker of jewelry, a loom knitter, and a jack of a few trades. I’m a husband, a son, an uncle (Weird Uncle, thank you very much…), a daddy to a doggie, a friend, a co-worker, a former fat man (Fat Mon, to those who’ve been to Jamaica), a recipient of abundant grace, a witness to miracles…
A child of God.
So yeah, I’m a writer. Good? No – not yet. Blessed? Indeed – more than I can express.
** And, for the record, getting from Pages to the blog all on the iPad seems to be difficult… Rather than holding this up, I’m back in MacJournal and flinging it out there. No italics, no pictures. Sheeesh… **