Writing


It’s nearly midnight. Scotland will be up needing to eat in two and a half hours. Church will come early tomorrow. But I can’t help it, I need to write.

About a month ago, while reading “The Happiness Project” I had this light bulb moment. She suggested that one figure out their true passion by determining what one spends their free time on. What do you do when you have nothing else to do. The answer surprised me. I write, and therefore: I’m a writer!

I’ve often felt embarrassed by my love of recording. My father introduced me to journal keeping in the second grade- I’ve kept one ever since. In college I wrote my family long weekly e-mails. One of my favorite parts of my study abroad experience was recording each day’s discoveries and sending them home. Now, I blog. There couldn’t be a better platform to fulfill my desire, my need, to write. At times the thought comes, “Why do you think others want to read about your thoughts?” “Who cares about what you’re doing in your life.” At which point I realize, I don’t write for others, at least not entirely. I write because it helps me find the deeper meaning in life. It helps me find the morale in the story. It helps me find me.

However, I realized the other day that the other reason I write is that it gives me the feeling that their is someone listening, agreeing. I love to be listened to. When I was in middle school, I opted out of the last period of the day so I could come home and practice singing. I would walk home, talking to myself the whole way, rehearsing what I would tell my mom when I arrived. She would always welcome me home and ask about my day. I would then proceed to tell her in a highly animated way all of my thoughts, the funny experiences, and the strange encounters I’d had. It became a sort of ritual for us. My mom would sit on the couch: smiling, laughing, listening. This is one of the more vivid emotional memories of my teen years. I lived for those mid-day conversations. I never felt more confident then when I was there talking- making my mom laugh and smile.

I like to hope that my blog continues to brighten lives. I relished the comment when my Mom said, whenever she has a few free minutes she’ll think: “I wonder if Kjirsti has posted anything new on her blog,” and get on the computer and check. Or how an “adopted” Grandmother of mine passed on the letters I had written home from Italy to her daughter to read, how another elderly friend said reading them gave her the desire to travel that at 83, she had never had.

I blog because it gives me an opportunity to “return and report.” I find that when I am actively blogging, I am actively living. I discontinued my gardening blog this year. As a result, I have spent so much less time enjoying the subtle changes in my garden, less time cherishing each bloom and capturing it with the camera. I write because my mind is full of words. I could easily list 25 different posts I have started in my mind over the last few weeks. I feel alive when my mind is actively pursuing ideas.

I find life is much easier to accept and deal with when viewed from the outside. It’s hard to explain. Being the fifth child, I have seen my older siblings go through each stage of life before me. It has allowed me to think, “Oh, so this is what that feels like!” Then every new experience seems like a discovery, a check in the list of life’s “to dos.” Writing further allows me to keep this third person approach. It helps me step out, and look in.

I don’t know why I feel this need to write, to verbalize my thoughts and experiences. All I know is that I do, and that’s okay. I’m a writer.

On a side note. One of the strange things about blogging as a platform of writing is that I don’t know who reads what I write. When I’m in a conversation with someone I’m close to, it feels presumptuous to assume they’ve read my blog. But I also don’t want to be redundant. If I say “Did you read my post on being a Mom?” and they haven’t they often start to justify why they haven’t read it, which makes me feel dumb for even thinking they might want to. So I’ll often start describing my experience, and they’ll interrupt saying, “I know, I read that on your blog.” At which point there is an awkward silence. I would love for the blog to be more conversational. At the same time, it’s important for me to not write with my readers in mind, least I stray from the genuine. I wish I knew the people that regularly check my blog so that there wasn’t this awkward: “I know things about you that you don’t know I know about you feeling.” Plus, then when we talk I could quickly ask their opinions.

So hey, if you are a regular reader. Drop me a quick comment with your name!

P.S. Apparently my week’s reading of “The Old Man and the Sea” didn’t help make my writing more terse. Sorry!


13 responses to “Writing”

  1. I love it! I think this is just one more way in which we are alike. Except you are so much better at it! I’m a regular!

  2. I’m a groupie too. Do you ever catch yourself paying as much attention to writing style as you do to substance when you read? It’s another tell, tale sign.

  3. As you know, I am here. I have thoroughly enjoyed getting to be the listener after years of being the talker.

  4. I read your blog… even though you’ll probably never talk to me in person again. ๐Ÿ™‚ I enjoy your rants and reading, and I really enjoyed when you did your little cartoons from when you were pregnant, it brought back a lot of memories from when I was pregnant! I comment on a rare occasion. ๐Ÿ˜‰ Keep blogging… I’m doing a poor job of blogging on mine lately! ๐Ÿ™‚
    Rachel (Hesse) Kemp

  5. I’m a regular reader! I love to read your thoughts. I love your fresh, optimistic perspectives – I always learn a great deal from you. I think you have a true talent for conveying your thoughts clearly in conversation and in writing. Thanks for being willing to share them with us!

  6. Your blog is one of my regular stops. Email accounts, facebook, Kjirsti’s blog, the sartorialist… I envy the courage you have in allowing people to know your thoughts. Do you ever have a thought that you feel you must hide?

  7. We are regular readers of your blog. We love staying connected even when we’re so far apart. Reading about how you would practice what and how you’d tell your mom about your day on your way home from school reminded me of the book, And to Think I Saw it on Mulberry Street by Dr. Seuss. Anyway, I also am a writer and enjoy the clarity of mind writing gives me- I’m most myself when I’m writing actively and I feel it gives me the “me-time” I need, time to sit with and enjoy and explore my thoughts, so it helps me feel balanced.

  8. Hi Kjirsti! I check your blog semi-frequently. I love reading about Scotland, especially since he and James are the same age. It’s nice to see that another mother has the same struggles and joys. Brian and I are going to a wedding in Oberlin in a couple of weeks, and I’d love to meet Scotland and introduce you to James while we’re in the area if you’re available!

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