I am unstable.
I come from California. I haven't seen many happy cows. Mostly I see them all crowded together and standing on Kilimanjaro size piles of poop. But it's also known as the land of fruits and nuts out here. That I can concur with. I fit right in.
Do you ever find yourself wondering, "What is the MATTER with that idiot?" when encountering someone who does something really stupid or makes absolutely no sense? And then you realize you're having enough trouble just analyzing your own internal landscape? So, how could there possibly be any hope for figuring out another person's issues? And then you go on a long tirade of trying to figure out why you ever did anything you did? And then you give up and eat ice-cream?
Well, I ask myself 13 times a day, "Why do you blog, Robynn?" and I answer with 23 different responses. Because I'm not all there. And I don't do the right ratios in the question-to-answer department. Math was never my best subject.
Lunch and boys were my best subject.
I had the biggest crush on Mike Karastathis when I was in the 5th grade. He was this cute Greek boy. I think he knew I was alive but I'm not sure he cared why. However, Galen (or something like that I can't recall due to extreme horror) knew why. It was so he could fawn over me and gaze at me on his 18th trip to the pencil sharpener. Him and his three teeth and his butch haircut. And his loud personality. And his "won't take no for an answer" pesky ways of following me around and declaring his love for me on an every-minute basis.
I don't write the blog for him.
Where the heck was I? What am I talking about?
On any given moment during the day I will give one of the following answers as to why I blog:
I love to write.
I love to make people laugh.
I love to make people feel.
Because people seem to like it.
Wait, there are only 2 comments. No one seems to like it.
I'm the scribe of the family writing down the good, the bad, and the utterly repulsive.
It's for my kids.
Maybe I'll make money someday. It's the beginning of a business.
It's been 3 months and you've made $7.48, Robynn. You're a mogul. Or a mongrel. Give up.
I'll put all these stories together one day and shove 'em in a book.
I love to stay connected with people.
It gives me happy motivation.
It gives me stress....I'll never write anything entertaining again. What was I thinking.
I'm building a writing discipline. Good writers write regularly.
I write for the naysayers. Those who hint to me that I must have a LOT of time on my hands.
I write for the yaysayers. Those who make me feel I have added something to their lives.
I like to share how I'm a mere mortal, stumbling and falling my way forward.
Because I like to connect with people and we connect with people in our humanity, our mistakes, and our weaknesses. Those who are reluctant, or loathe, to reveal their weaknesses can make you feel "less than." Perfectionism isn't that attracting. And we don't really believe it anyway, just so you know, you perfectionists you.
I am a perfectionist. I'm trying to be a good-enoughist. I am in conflict with myself. Where was I? Oh yeah.
Because maybe someone will see that without God's grace in my life, I wouldn't be here.
Maybe someone will realize their need for God's grace in their life and grasp that hope.
I love to write. Did I say that?
If you love to do something and you do it, is it automatically a weakness?
Do you see my struggle with paralysis of analysis?
I am unstable.
So, why do YOU write? I would REALLY love to know. Would you tell me? Then I can obsess about your reasons, too.