Why is a blank page so intimidating?  Whether it’s here or at work, the blank screen sends my heart racing.  Sometimes I will write words–words of no significant meaning on the page just to fill it up a bit and take the pressure off.  An outline, notes, old documents to use as a starting point, anything will do.

With photography, I begin a shoot with test shots.  I aim at the ground, adjust my white balance, focus on a few inanimate objects to check my exposure and focus.

It takes a while for me to begin to see.  Whether it’s to find the words to shape what I want to communicate or to find the light to create the image I want to capture, I have to mess up things a little bit before I get started.  In complete opposition to my approach to housekeeping, I find it easier to organize and clean up my thoughts/ideas once I shake them all up and splash them around a bit.  Actually, upon writing that that’s how I clean too.  I have to get things all out in my vision so I can organize them and find their homes.

Assuming not everyone approaches their creative process this way, but it works for me.  As I’m sloshing around poking at things from different directions, all of the sudden I find what I was looking for.

I haven’t been very good about sharing things I find while surfing here on the blog.  I tag sites on Delicious and they auto-post on my FriendFeed, but I want to make an effort to highlight some of my better finds.

Today’s find is from Grace Is Overrated.

Christie has been creating these free, downloadable journaling pages for months.  (I’m fairly certain I’ve snagged every single one.)  I love the pages because they offer prompts and thoughts that might never occur to me as I stare at a blank page with a pen in my hand.

Plus??  She offers a version that you can color yourself.

I think we all need to take some time to stop and color a little more, don’t you?

I’d love to see a version of these for kids.  I know my little guys are loving the Diary of a Wimpy Kid Do It Yourself book they got for Christmas.  Anything to get them reading and writing more.

So hop on over to Christie’s site and take in the goodness.

I just wanted you to know.

It’s just that…

I just wanted to apologize.

JUST

I hate that word!

And yet, it appears in my writing all the time.

It’s like I’m begging you to give me a chance.  Every time I use it, I feel like I’m pleading for the opportunity for my words to have meaning.

Why can’t they stand on their own?  Why do they need further explanation?

I was just hoping that you would…

Say what you mean girl.

Is it a lazy writing habit or a cry from the little girl inside who still wants approval–who wants to be accepted in this world as she is?

It can be frightening to spill your thoughts onto the page for others to read.  Of course, I could hide them in a journal and burn them when I’m through, but how does that start a conversation?  How does that allow for connection?

I mean if the words are just for me…

(that’s the little girl again, afraid to ask for what she wants)

Just has a different definition of course.  Used in its alternative it is strong and truthful and powerful–it has right on its side.

And that is what it all comes down to.

Do I just right?  Or do I write justly?

I want to sincerely thank my thoughtful friends Tanya, Amy and Jenny for inspiring these thoughts.

I write to process.

I write to share.

I write to expel,  investigate,  connect, publicize, stand out, convey, separate, unite, understand, distinguish, identify, comprehend, relate, inspire, exorcise, reveal, persuade, learn, heal, clarify, notice, express–and probably a few other things too.

What about you?  Why do you do what you do?

Turning 40 this year has me taking stock of this life I’ve led so far.  I’ll admit that sixty and even thirty days ago I was on the verge of near panic about my failures as a human being, my lack of productivity and success to date–then I started writing about it and well realized I’ve been acting like an ass.

I see you nodding.  No need to agree with me so wholeheartedly.

It wasn’t writing alone that smacked me upside the head.  Call it providence, call it coincidence, call it divine intervention.  Over the past few months I’ve also been turned on to a number of blogs that focus on creativity.  I imagine I started poking around them initially to get more ideas for my photography, but I was quickly pulled in by the images and moments these people are capturing in their art.

Getting older and watching my babies bloom has me more aware of the swift wings of time (really?  swift wings of time?!–I need to get over myself).  I’ve been trying to figure out how to appreciate the everyday happenings of my life right now–to truly experience them–and how to capture them for later when I’m old and alone and gray(er) and on the verge of being eaten by my cats.   And these bloggers have inspired me.

Really this is a long-winded way of saying…

LOOK WHAT I MADE!!

Nice Amie.  Lovely.  What the hell are they?

Duh!  Background papers.  We’re gonna use ’em for stuff.  We?  Stuff?

I’ve joined The Artistic Mother’s Art Group.

I’ve never thought of myself as artistic (and gessoed, painted, stamped and pasteled papers aside I’m not sure I am), but I gotta tell you being surrounded by paint and paper and pastels and ink and glue and having dirty artsy hands…it kinda rocks.  The kicker too is that my kids are getting into with me.  We’re sitting around the table “doin’ art” as my small fry says.

If I stop getting pedicures and suddenly change my name to Raindrop though, you gotta promise to host an intervention.

I’m in a really bad mood. Lately, I haven’t posted when this happens because I worry what I might say when I do. Too many people I care about stop by here on occasion and I don’t want them to fret over me.

But today I remembered that my attraction to writing developed during my teen years as a way to get the thoughts out of my head. As a fairly outgoing person, you might be surprised by the size of the crowd and level of volume that can be reached in my brain.

I don’t hear voices per se (cause damn if I did they might have answers), but rather have conversations with myself–constantly.

So back in those hormone-filled days of angst, I often wrote letters to people as a way to say the things I didn’t feel I could say/or didn’t have the opportunity to say in person. I never sent the letters. I don’t remember burning any of them. Who knows? My mom could be sitting on a stack of them right now waiting for the perfect time to embarrass the crap out of me. The letters didn’t necessarily make me feel any better, but they seemed to quiet the sounds that prevented me from noticing the rest of the world and moving on.

Like many bloggers I know, I do keep a private blog where, to this day, I still write letters. Interestingly, putting my thoughts out there feels safer than recording them in a journal that someone might happen upon. There is further irony to that blog, but for now I’ll enjoy that by myself.

Do you have a place you write that is separate from your public blog? Are there topics that you only cover there?

As I wander through the blogosphere I read about a vast number of topics that are finally seeing the light of day. Moms are opening up about topics ranging from sex to the trials of PPD. Women are discussing the frustration and heartbreak of infertility. People of all walks of life are sharing the trials of serious illness, depression, racism, bullying, addiction, the death of loved ones and abuse. These brave people are sharing a part of themselves in a way that allows the rest of us to not feel so alone in the world. In my mind, they are the pillars of the social networking community.

What I’ve noticed though is that there seems to be one topic that remains fairly off limits (unless addressed anonymously). I understand why. Many people have discussed their reasons for not talking about it. I see this in my real life friendships too.

I just have to ask though…when will we all stop pretending like marriage is easy??

Once upon a time, I wrote when my brain swirled with thoughts. As a teenager, that usually involved a broken heart or anger at my parents, but it always helped to sit down and just write and write and write until I was exhausted. I would say everything that I felt like I couldn’t say out loud or didn’t have the opportunity to say. Writing rarely changed the outcome of the situation, but it was cathartic.

I never was a journal keeper. I tried many times. I love a blank book like nobody else, but I could never keep up a journal. I wanted to. It just never worked–unless I was sad or mad.

Two years ago a friend started a blog and I was intrigued by the concept. My brain never stops. Many nights falling asleep is a challenge because I just can’t seem to turn it off. A blog seemed like a perfect place to put those thoughts–and honestly, I was tired of watching my husband shake his head in amused disbelief as I shared yet another of my thoughts. And for the past year, writing regularly has been fairly easy. Like I said. Many thoughts.

Lately, I’ve been struck by an ironic shift. I don’t seem to be able to write when I have serious emotions I need to get out.

There are some thoughts I’ve been stewing over lately, thoughts I need to get out, but for once writing (at least here) doesn’t seem like the best way to exorcise them from my head. Hence, the infrequent posts of late. Luckily, the wonderful Christine (you have no idea how tempting it was to call you Christina on purpose *grin*), who parenthetically may be my soul sister, sent me a few interview questions a while back and it has provided me with some fodder for a post.

So without further ado…

1) Who is your ideal candidate for president?

Elizabeth Edwards.

Unfortunately, she’s not running. Honestly, I don’t know that my ideal exists. That’s the problem. I’ve invited all of the major candidates to come by my house. I really don’t live that far from DC. I have just one question that I’d like each to answer. All of their big “plans” and “policies” aside, how would their Presidency make the world a safer and more prosperous place for my children?

Name three songs that define important events in your life, what are they and what memories do they bring?

At first this was a difficult question to answer. Many songs have strong associations for me–some reminding me of a person or a particular place. Many ellicit strong emotional reactions, and yet none of them defined the important events of my life. It seems too easy to say, “oh this is the song we danced to at our wedding” but that felt cliche. Instead, I’ve selected three that are by no means my favorites or the three most important songs to me, but rather three that define major steps in my life.

Kung Fu Fighting by Carl Douglas
As silly as it is, this is the first 45 I owned. I received it as a present for my fifth or sixth birthday. I think from my “cousin” Matthew. I included it because it marks the point in my life when I remember having my own “tastes” (for whatever that says about them–give me a break it was the 70’s).

Fly Me To the Moon by Frank Sinatra
I have warm memory tied to this song. The details aren’t important. The significance is difficult to describe. What it boils down to is that I’ve lead my life not always believing I was truly lovable. This song reminds me that it is possible.

Isn’t She Lovely by Stevie Wonder
Okay, this may be confusing, because anyone who has read my blog knows that I don’t have any girls. It’s a penis-filled house here in VA (well except for me of course). Oddly enough, this song makes me think of my three boys though. It’s such a beautiful song about becoming a parent and the overwhelming amount of love that enters your life with the arrival of your child. When I hear this song, I think about rocking those little babe-o-lahs in my arms and dancing around singing to them. There is nothing like the big, toothless smile of baby to melt your heart.

3) Without thinking, write the first sentence that comes to mind. Now, explain it.

I’m hungry.

Boy you have no idea how loaded this sentence is! I really am hungry right now. The cheese and crackers I had earlier didn’t really cut it as dinner. And they shouldn’t have. I have an unfortunately complicated relationship with food. I love it and I hate it all at the same time. I’ve written about my challenges with my weight in the past. I love food. I love tasting it and sharing it with others. But, I don’t eat for health, and that’s a problem. I hate that I battle my weight. I hate what I think it says about me. In my head it tells the world I’m a glutton and lazy and disgusting and every other awful description you can come up with, and yet I can’t seem to stop doing it.

4) If you could leave today, and land anywhere and with whomever you wanted, and start a new life, where would you be and with who?

The where is easy. It would definitely be a warm sunny beach–turquoise blue water, white sand and a light warm breeze. The who is much harder. Is this the only person I will ever see for the rest of my life? That’s too hard. I could never narrow it down. If it’s for a weekend of hot, steamy sex well then…

5) What is the one famous quote that most closely mirrors your own personal beliefs?

Take away love and our earth is a tomb. Robert Browning

I see this as love for each other as individuals and for each other as human beings. What would our world be like if we led with love?