I'm a writer...

You are what you do. I've heard that before. I've said that before. I've believed that before. So part of me was all up in my head thinking, "Get away from the computer. There's no one there. Go do something. Go read something. Go watch something. Let it go. Move on. Get over it. Whatever." 

But, what I almost forgot is that there's nothing wrong with me doing what I do. You know how I do...I'm a writer. I write.

And talking with Pam reminded me that it is so much easier to write on the computer than it is to write in a notebook. My fingers are nimble and I type quickly - and they can't grip a pen nearly so well as I'd like. There have just been too many times where, for no reason at all, pens have been known to launch from my fingers! What the hell is that about?

So, let me convince myself that it isn't about anyone in particular... I just have to write. I have to be on the computer to write. I must be here right now, at this moment, at this time, all the time. And it has nothing to do with anything at all. I thought I said that I wasn't going to delude myself. Ah, whatever.

Now that I've rationalized (as half-assed as that argument was) why it is I must write, here, now, in this medium, I realize I have nothing to say. Story of my life. Great song, by the way. Ok. I'm done. But at least now I have set the stage for my return at a later date with no further explanation due. We'll see how long that lasts. The explanation, or my need to "write". All part of the manic lift of spirit I'm currently experiencing. I know, I'll go hop on the step machine for a half hour and we'll get even more extreme. A trip to Vegas in a hot skirt, with sexy, crazy, hoochie heels. Gotta be tight, right? Will this hot mood last that long? Long enough, I hope.

Hey, I've figured out something to write about. A part of me must question my motives here. It really is about setting shit straight. I think that's it. It's about deciding to bite into life and let it happen, make it happen. After the election, on November 3rd, angry, upset, bewildered, and engaged and aware, I made a decision... see that first rant on this blog (so far, it's the earliest date - I haven't decided if I'm going to add more random thoughts that have occurred to me... actually, I have just decided. It really does start with that day. So, yes, the first blog.) I made a decision. After September 11th, 2001 the idea that moved me the most came from Marianne Williamson on the Oprah show and she said, "It is time for thinking people to think." And a lot of people thought, but a lot of unthinking people did and those people have been in charge for too long. Because the kind of thinking we're talking about... it just doesn't mesh with what's going on right now. War. Poverty. Fear. Judgement. Separation. Rationalization of victimization for the sake of financial institutions. Not cool.

What occurred to me on November 3rd, was really, the idea that the thinking people, (what I always believed I was) we must take thoughts, the noblest thoughts, the most enlightened thoughts, the thoughts invoking love, compassion, understanding, faith and hope, take those thoughts and get the fuck busy and do. Do. I do. I'm a doer.

At Guita's service, part of my eulogy to her celebrated that she was a woman of action (compared to me being a woman of words). She showed who she was through her actions. Especially moreso to me than maybe to anyone else in the world because the limits of language made action our only communication. And the words I love you. Those were the only words we said to each other. So she, more than anyone, made me know that we are what we do. It is time to be a woman of action. I've been a woman of words but the kind of words that have fallen flat on deaf ears more often than not. My own more often than anyone else's. Most men will stumble upon the truth and then carry on as if nothing happened at all. (I'm paraphrasing and I'm plagiarizing because I cannot give credit where credit is due, or justice to the words - because I don't remember who the hell said it and exactly how the hell it was said - it may have been Twain or Thoreau.) So I have said, heard, believed in words, but not the kind of words that DO. These words here - they DO. They DO because I'm doing, I'm writing. See how I do?

With an eye on the possibility that this might all be a manic high creating havoc with my world, I'm going to also consider the decision I made and believe I just decided to do. I saw a movie. I saw a movie. And it made me want to write. And talk to someone. And I did both. See? I do. I'm writing. And I talked, oh how I talked to who I wanted to talk to. The action is fucking refreshing, by the way. So much more productive than the thinking and thinking and thinking and thinking and thinking and thinking and thinking and thinking and thinking. The thinking, the analysis really does lead to damn paralysis.

You know what? Bingo! It really does have to do with faith, with solid belief. I preach and I preach this belief crap and why does it surprise me when I figure out... shit, I've been lacking belief and faith. Faith, real faith, that if I walk through fire, I will be alright. If I jump, I really will either find safe, solid ground, or I will be taught how to fly. Faith. You demonstrate faith by stepping out, beyond, above, and forward. Faith without action is pious, self-righteous hypocrisy. And I'm tired of that crap. It's a downward spiral that I've been caught in too often. So I'm just going to have some fun, do, step up and do. And, it will be all right. It's inevitable. It's perfect. There is no coincidence. There is no randomness. It is all a choice. All agreements made a millennia ago.

"I'm a gonna go to hell when I die"- conan o'brien. I can relate. Not sure where this fits in on this rant of writing. But at times, I can severely relate.