I’m really bummed out. I know this will mean nothing to most of you, and I wholeheartedly agree that it is infinitesimally minor in the grand scheme, or even in my own life, but I broke a bowl this evening. Rushing, racing, carelessly grabbing soupbowls out of the cabinet, I don’t even feel the sharp jab of pain as my thumb gives and my treasured spatterware bowl lands with a loud crash and flies into several pieces on the kitchen floor.
It’s not the bowl so much as what the bowl represents to me; home, stability, a relative to its matching bowls, plates, mugs and odd pieces and me within this home for thirteen years. Should I really be jeopardizing something like this for just a few seconds’ worth of extra time? This set was special to me, the only one I liked well enough to forego my first daily use set of rooster dishes; the one that was shared with one I love. And no, it’s not easily replaced, as shortly after I completed most of the set, Bennington Pottery burnt down, and for many years did not even produce this pattern.
No, I’m not devastated; not this easily over something quite this simple. But it does make me stop for a sad moment.
The Lost Children: A Charity Anthology
You’re a prolific little monkey aren’t you? I envy you that, surely I do.
In one of your other posts, perhaps the one regarding how prolific you are and a few thoughts about losing steam, I did have a thought. I think whether one loses steam or not has a lot to do with what drives them to write in the first place.
Some writers, especially the blogging sort, write solely for the purpose of external validation. Some work to hone their craft. Some just want to keep friends up to date. Some just search for cathartic relief. Many are a mixture of all of the above and a few reasons I didn’t specify.
If a person is writing just for the external validation though, if that validation is found wanting, the determination to keep at it dissolves away pretty quickly.
If you know what kind of writer you are, maybe you know what you have to fear the most. Does that make any sense?
It most certainly does define the psychology of blogging; better and more succinct than many of the professional studies of the blogging mind.
You just haven’t checked up on me in a while–my most brilliant thoughts are usually posted early morning, and as I run down through the day, I’m less lucid and try to restrain my urge to write every dumb thought that comes to me.
Prolific Little Monkey? Love it, never been called that before, and what a wonderful name for a weblog!
Maybe you might want to slow down a bit? While I agree that losing special things can be akin to losing special people – somewhat like the ending of an era in some cases, my Mom’s always reminded me that no one’s ever taken anything with them the day they’ve died. Would hate to have a life full of fleeting moments the one day that I would choose to sit and back and think about every single one of them.