The Sara(h) Syndrome. Thats what Im calling it: the urge to blog. Its true: all of my friends named Sara(h) have a blog as do many other friends and acquaintances. But writing is not as easy as it looked when they did all the heavy lifting.
Here are some thoughts on why by someone way more eloquent than I am.
It’s long. It’s worth it.
Just start watching. Give it a chance.
You can turn it off if it bores you.
(The end is the best part.)
Where the Wild Things Are, In the Night Kitchen, and Chicken Soup with Rice are some of the most playful, insightful, inspirational childrens books Ive ever read. When Maurice Sendak died earlier this month, it all came rushing back. The creatures in Where the Wild Things Are are both the most gentle and the most ferocious monsters of my dreams. Ive been Max: Let the wild rumpus start, his mother: you wild thing!, and those precious wild things themselves: Well eat you up, we love you so!
Maurice Sendak didnt write books to club children over the head with a life lesson; he wrote with joy and insight about what he saw, felt, and experienced. He played with language in a way that invited you to play along. Who doesnt love Oh my once, Oh my twice, Oh my Chicken Soup with Rice?
Sendak didnt do many book signings because he said it confused the children when he took their beloved books away and wrote in them. His favorite story involved a young fan who enjoyed the personal drawing Sendak sent him so much that he ate it. What a compliment!
In his recent interview with Fresh Airs Terry Gross on NPR, Maurice Sendak sounded like a lonely, wounded child when he talked about those hed loved and lost. He even expressed joy that he would die before the interviewer so he wouldnt have to mourn her too. His heart was raw from feeling for 83 years.
Maurice Sendak: Conventional? Nope.
A treasure? Absolutely.
Its amazing how little time I spend in silence.
I know, its not really silent there are cars going by and an occasional bird chirping, but its close enough. Technically, the silence is also being disturbed by the scratching of my pencil on this paper. The loudest sounds I can hear right now are inside my head. My thoughts are hurling themselves around, trying to get out somehow.
I wonder what they would be doing if Id remembered to charge my ipod?
Would the beat have distracted them or would the lyrics have sent them off on a tangent? Would that have been worse than whats happening now? Or better? Or just…different?
What I do know is that if Im going to commit to this blogging thing, and I am, Im going to be spending a lot more time trying to capture those thoughts. If silence sends them sliding out onto the paper – Bring It On!
Now, because I live in a two bedroom apartment with four other people and a dog, I may need to get creative so lets admit up front that I wouldnt be the first mom who locked herself in the bathroom for some peace and quiet.
Creativity doesnt scare me. Wondering what happened to all those thoughts I didnt pay attention to does.
Here it is. My blog. A place to share my insights and thoughts on the whats and whys of life. I blame Facebook. It awakened my inner writer. Mentally framing my experiences into Facebook posts was the first symptom that something was happening. And then there was the collusion of my inner reader. Everytime I read something great, I wanted to write something great.
Writers write, right? So Ive started writing – whenever I get the urge – about whatever inspires me. Having a purpose to write has made me more aware of the little things that happen each day. My posts will be snapshots from life both inside and outside the classroom and so Ive entitled the blog Teachable Moments.
According to About.com, a teachable moment is “not something that you can plan for; rather, it is a fleeting opportunity that must be sensed and seized. Often it will require a brief digression that temporarily sidetracks the original plan…Taking this tangent is worthwhile.”
And so it begins- the brief digressions and occasional tangents. Thanks for reading!