Sometimes there seems to be nothing to write. Other times--now times--there's too much, it's overwhelming. Or--no, let's be more specific: it's not that it's overwhelming, it's just that it doesn't all seem to link up into one cohesive thought--read, blog entry.
However, without resorting to bullet points, I'll give it my best shot.
I'm married. That's a good start. And married life, I'm here to tell you, is good. At the risk of sounding like a love-struck honeymooner, it's just fun. Brenda and I are having a great time being domestic and dorky and generally ridiculous. If there's a downside, it's only that I don't make as much time to write as I used to. But sometimes it's good to put down the camera and make memories instead of recording them, right?
Well it struck me just now as I was trying to fall asleep that the very name of this public journal has a lot to do with my getting married.
Or at least, it did...until I got married.
For my entire life, as long as I can recall, getting married has been my number one. (I don't know what it was so early in life that made me idealize marriage so, but I confess I proposed to my first girlfriend when I was five. Yep, it was so much fun I did it twice.) Not that marriage was ever just something to accomplish or check off the list, but more like I was away from home, eager to return. And so I've arrived in that sense. But I'm still
arriving, and I plan on constantly arriving...but never stopping. There's always the Next, right?
I don't need to remind you of all those too-true clichés about the journey, not the destination. I'm all about that. But I want to be careful to cultivate the discipline of discomfort, too.
I remember I had this neighbour, a sweet old widow, maybe eighty years old. She told me she does one thing every year that absolutely terrifies her. How fantastic is that? Some years that meant bungee jumping, others picking up the phone and calling so-and-so. (There's another blog entry here about the correlation of marriage and bungee jumping, but I'll save that one for a rainy day.)
To that end, in the spirit of dear Edna, I'm committing to write every Thursday. There may not be a blog entry every week, but I'm going to keep the pen moving at least. And to go along with that, I'm going to try and develop a train of thought through the course of the week. I feel so scatter-brained lately, it's driving me nuts. So as I'm driving, as I'm not sleeping--both of which I seem to be doing plenty of these days--I'm going to try and focus on a problem, a question, some sort of trajectory. And then I'm going to write about it. This goes hand in hand with a broader intentionality across the board. Like not leaving my dirty clothes on the floor. So far so good.
Hey, speaking of which, I was just reading something really interesting about intentional socializing this morning... See you next week.
