From My Mind to....

Oh Look! A Chicken....

Hi, and welcome!

I love to write ... a lot.  And I have things saved in notebooks, on the backs of receipts, on scraps of paper I scrounge as needed, and even on pieces of 1/4" plywood.  Yep!  I work in a woodshop.  Actually, it's worse--I own the woodshop.  Okay, I really love what I do.  I've been doing it for more than 15 years, and still love it.

Dang, I'm doing it again.  Allow me to explain my title and you'll understand why my blogs will be the way they are--a jumbled mass of loosely placed, often incoherent thoughts.

Our first leader of our church's Praise Team, SonDay's Coming, often had a devil of a time focusing on the task at hand.  Suzi, a dear friend who has since moved on to another church, would be talking about something, then would all of a sudden switch to another subject.  Sometimes it would be a gradual shift like a very long story by a child; other times you could feel the teeth breaking off the gears when she suddenly shifted direction.

One night while she was talking, in mid-sentence and without skipping a beat, she said,"Oh look! A chicken...."  Of course we all looked around to see some squawking chicken running through the church ... and saw nothing.  It was her way of acknowledging that she knew of her penchant for tangentiality.  And that phrase became synonymous with any change in direction by anyone in the group.  We miss Suzi, but she's always with us.

Now ... where was I?  Oh yes.  Writing to woodshops.  I hated writing!  All the way up to the ninth semester of my college career.  The funny thing is I majored in History, with a minor in Political Science--writing was essential.  I would have been happy to do all my assignments orally.  Somehow--probably had something to do with changing my major four times from Forestry to Astronomy to Architecture to History with corresponding Academic Advisor changes all my Freshman year--I completed four years of college without the required Freshman English course.  Oh yes, they enforced that rule.

I took a semester off to work and get my head back on straight.  After all who wants to finish school in the dead of winter in Maine; Spring is where it's at.  I took a creative writing course to satisfy the university's requirements ... and discovered I loved to write.  Then I joined the Army--I was in ROTC to pay the college bills and keep out of the Vietnam War, which ended, thank God, two years before I finally graduated.

The Army had no room for creative writing.  Nor did the custom woodworking business, which I started after getting out of the Army.  I started writing personally about seven years ago, posting some stories on an internet site, which shall remain nameless (but was not WDC) ... and got slammed, shut down and otherwise ill-used by a couple of critics.  I wish I knew then what I know now. 

Instead, I retreated.  Sadly, I no longer have those stories.  Then, a year and a half ago I began writing again and joined Yahoo 360, a once great site that is now poorly managed, often forgotten by the Yahoo leadership.  I posted my first of 58 entires on Jun 23 last year ... and found folk rather enjoyed my ramblings.  And just to make a long story longer, I'll post that first entry once again. 

"Tyranny of the Urgent"

I came across this phrase yesterday that seems to sum up my life of late.

I'm sure I'm not alone in this. But, doesn't it seem like we're all playing catch-up with our lives. We respond to a series of externally induced (or, often in my case, self induced) actions that require reactive response. Catch-up on work; catch-up on bills; even, catch-up on play. I can't get to that place where I can be proactive. Perhaps it's just as well that I often need that pressure to actually get something done.

The tyranny of the Urgent--sure sets one to thinking.


I learned two things when I began writing again. 

First, I write for myself, because I have to.  I have things in my head that fight to get out, and I'm not happy until I let them go.  You folk are just along for the ride.  For this reason, I've developed a thick skin; criticism doesn't scare me now, and in fact, I encourage and welcome it.  However said criticism may have been intended, I use it in the manner I see fit.

And second, I find many folk actually enjoy reading my stories, real or made-up, a fact which still surprises me.  I find it eminently satisfying that some folk enjoy my written ride through life.  Maybe not as much as I do, but then it's my ride. 

I do hope you join me again....