I'm Committed

I agonized for over a week about what to blog about this term. What am I passionate about? I have to admit that I’m not really sure. I guess I’m rather wishy-washy because after nearly half a century of living, I find it hard to commit. I “like,” and not in the Facebook sense, a variety of causes and activities. I’ve raised thousands of dollars for cancer research, I regularly take part in local outreach programs that provide food and hope to urban residents, and I participate in the Kairos prison ministry where I serve as a listening ear to inmates who have given up on the world and especially on themselves. I raised funds for Haitian earthquake victims and collect pop-tops for Ronald McDonald House.  My husband and I have taken part in disaster response missions including Hurricane Katrina and lesser-publicized calamities like the flooding in the Midwest.  In light of the recent catastrophic weather conditions, we’re planning our next trip. I’m not sure which cause I’m most interested in and which best use my skills and abilities. I haven’t committed.

I studied for a degree in illustration because when I was young I loved art and I wanted to pursue that as a career.  I still enjoy drawing, but I’m also partial to painting, especially on shabby chic furniture. I sculpt in oven-hardening clay and am captivated by the art dolls I see in boutiques and magazines. I quilt because I like to see the play between the colors and shapes. I embellish premade clothes to improve them and make them more “me.”  I take pleasure in showing people I care by sending handmade cards drafted in pen and ink or created with bits of colored paper and punches and scissors.  I took several classes in stained glass and have a half-finished transom in my garage that will someday be part of my front door. Again, I try it all and go from one project to the next. I haven’t committed.

The professor for my writing class asked us to comment on our assignment last week which was to introduce ourselves. “Did anyone struggle with writing about themselves?” she asked. I enjoy journaling, but even in my diaries I don’t always reveal my true thoughts. What if someone finds my journal and reads what I said about them? What if people think I’m a bore, or a complainer, or a narcissist?  Writing about me is yet another commitment that I have a hard time keeping.

Like the majority of people I meet, I grew up in a dysfunctional family. I don’t find the need to dwell on my past or continuously talk about my poor, unfortunate self, but I know that my early life has left me without some of the confidence I admire in others and wish I possessed. Will people think I am bragging if I tell them I am enjoy doing for others? Will people think I am whining if I tell them my mother died when I was a senior in high school?

Crafting that self-introduction and letting strangers know more about me was not easy. What could I write that people would be interested in?  One of the chapters in this week’s reading assignment in Zinsser’s  On Writing Well centered on audience. Zinsser offered a few examples of writing including an essay by E.B. White on “The Hen.”  His comment after sharing the piece was that he had absolutely no interest in the subject matter and yet he thoroughly enjoyed reading the piece. The second excerpt by H.L. Mencken was a rant about the hypocrisy he saw in organized religion. I didn’t agree with him and I‘m not sure Zinsser did either, but it didn't matter. Again, the piece was engaging and amusing to read.

Zinsser revealed the secret to the popularity of the various authors. They didn’t write them to please an editor or some faceless audience. The pieces were appealing because the authors wrote them for themselves and obviously enjoyed the task.  What an enlightening paragraph that was for me.  I should write for myself!

Last week’s introductory post was written to fill a square and try to write something that might be interesting to my classmates. No one would care about what’s in my heart I thought. In the comments from my introduction, several classmates as well as my instructor pointed out that the post was “around me” but not about me. I talked about my family and a few of my activities, but they were right. I didn’t say anything of substance about myself. I didn’t give any opinions. I didn’t let people in. That’s when I knew what my focus for this term should be.  

So, after hemming and hawing all week about what to write about, I decided that I’m going to commit to writing about me – REALLY about me -- my opinions, my experiences, my life.

For many people that would easy, but for me, letting go and writing about myself will be tougher than translating the technical jargon at work.  I’m committing.

But I also know now why I chose a pseudonym.