I'm not gonna fib. Wednesday's post wasn't so simple. But as involved as the finished product was, I really enjoyed myself through the process of our story, and I thank the participants. You're all pretty cool.
Today, though, I'm taking the easy road. Sharla Scroggs, at a little salty..., gave me a blogger award this week (thank you!), and it included a fun meme. Here's my version. And it's harder than you think for a wordy writer to be so concise!
Your Cell Phone? small
Your Hair? curly
Your Mother? devoted
Your Father? heart
Your Favorite Food? edible
Your Dream Last Night? forgotten
Your Favorite Drink? caffeinated
Your Dream/Goal? books
What Room Are You In? mine
Your Hobby? decorating
Your Fear? spiders
Where Do You See Yourself In Six Years? grown
Where Were You Last Night? Wal-Mart
Something That You Aren't? athletic
Muffins? chocolate-chip
Wish List Item? chair
Where Did You Grow Up? Kansas City
Last Thing You Did? pottied
What Are You Wearing? casual
Your TV? off
Your Pets? pooch
Friends? fantastic
Your Life? blessed
Your Mood? so-so
Missing Someone? spouse
Vehicle? Jeep
Something You Aren't Wearing? hat
Your Favorite Store? antiques
Your Favorite Color? blues
When Was The Last Time You Laughed? recently
Last Time You Cried? waterlogged
Your Best Friend? awesome
Facebook? duh!
Favorite Place To Eat? out
Favorite Character you've written about? Sherman
What are your one-word answers? Go
Showing posts with label about me. Show all posts
Showing posts with label about me. Show all posts
Friday, January 29, 2010
Friday, November 6, 2009
Three Lives
It occurred to me with certain clarity this week that I live three lives. Three. All from this one body.
They're separate, but pieces of them overlap. Each is carried out by real parts of me.
Life in the Flesh
I am living, breathing, my body holds a spirit. I primp and present my physical self, nourish my person without regularly exercising it, drive an automatic SUV, read aloud, sing aloud, stir breakfast--and sometimes dinner--with my favorite wooden spatula, lose myself to folding laundry, loathe putting it away. I wince when the phone rings, but love to give hugs. My mind wanders while I'm in church, and I mutter ridiculous things to the family dog. I find solace and happiness and frustation and doubt in the act of writing, can't get enough kisses from my daughters, am never sated. This is real life. The one I've lived for thirty-one years, with emotion and experience and depth. Real time. Tangible existence.
Virtual Life
I am a presence. With pictures, sometimes, but most often with words. My thoughts and essence are on display, whether through blog posts or online statuses. I give of myself through a filter, the filter of this internet that is not my physical location, just designed representation. It's me, too, but with time delay. With edits. Smooth, composed. Confident. I banter, I share, I feel, I learn and love. Virtually.
Life through Fiction
I am what my mind creates. My characters are extensions of me, their stories fill me. New experiences, lived vicariously. Papered emotions, felt as if real and raw. People as real to me as the Postmaster, my daughters' teachers, the person driving behind me, my best friend's mother, because they are real, in some other place, even if only by manuscript or in Word document. Entirely made up, but true, honest at the same time. I exist so that they can exist. And because they exist.
These three Jannas, they feel individual, so different, so distinct. But I reconcile one with the others. Aren't I all of them? My three lives. Defining one existence.
What about yours?
They're separate, but pieces of them overlap. Each is carried out by real parts of me.
Life in the Flesh
I am living, breathing, my body holds a spirit. I primp and present my physical self, nourish my person without regularly exercising it, drive an automatic SUV, read aloud, sing aloud, stir breakfast--and sometimes dinner--with my favorite wooden spatula, lose myself to folding laundry, loathe putting it away. I wince when the phone rings, but love to give hugs. My mind wanders while I'm in church, and I mutter ridiculous things to the family dog. I find solace and happiness and frustation and doubt in the act of writing, can't get enough kisses from my daughters, am never sated. This is real life. The one I've lived for thirty-one years, with emotion and experience and depth. Real time. Tangible existence.
Virtual Life
I am a presence. With pictures, sometimes, but most often with words. My thoughts and essence are on display, whether through blog posts or online statuses. I give of myself through a filter, the filter of this internet that is not my physical location, just designed representation. It's me, too, but with time delay. With edits. Smooth, composed. Confident. I banter, I share, I feel, I learn and love. Virtually.
Life through Fiction
I am what my mind creates. My characters are extensions of me, their stories fill me. New experiences, lived vicariously. Papered emotions, felt as if real and raw. People as real to me as the Postmaster, my daughters' teachers, the person driving behind me, my best friend's mother, because they are real, in some other place, even if only by manuscript or in Word document. Entirely made up, but true, honest at the same time. I exist so that they can exist. And because they exist.
These three Jannas, they feel individual, so different, so distinct. But I reconcile one with the others. Aren't I all of them? My three lives. Defining one existence.
What about yours?
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