Did you know that frivol is a transitive verb?
You probably only really use is in the adverbian sense (“She was acting frivolously.”) but I began to really ruminate on the word when I ran across it in a list after I Google-searched, “other words for “to waste.” Actually, I got to frivol after I clicked on squander, because it was squander that actually resonated the most with me in that moment.
And can you guess what prompted my to-lazy-to-actually-find-and-dust-off-my-thesaurus search? You may be able.
Ah, yes. The ever present topic of my writing. Or lack thereof.
I can’t number the times I’ve been told, “you have a gift,” “you should write a book,” “you’re an amazing writer.” On one hand, the self-doubt that wells up with each of those compliments is so very real. Who am I to think anything I have to say is worthy of publication? And on the other hand, I have a diploma (somewhere; probably near the dusty thesaurus) that would speak to my talent. Degrees in journalism and English mean something, do they not?
So, therein is my dilemma, haunting my thoughts on a cold Monday night , driving me to the Internet for word inspiration because of the overwhelming and disappointing belief that I’m wasting a gift. My most precious gift.
I don’t mind using this space to diary endearing anecdotes of my children as they grow, or to catalogue recipes that become part of my constant kitchen rotation. I have no moral qualms with posting pictures and step-by-step instructions on home decoration and improvement projects that I tackle as we move from home to home.
I want so much more for my OWN self.
I want to use this space to pour out thoughtful, carefully crafted, grammatically correct pieces of me. When I wrote the “why Writer Chic?” post years ago, I stated that I wanted this place to be somewhere I could speak to my all the parts of me. Not just me as a mommy/homemaker. But the woman-me. And writer-me. And dreamer-me.
Where did she go?
She is in here. I know she is.
But it has been so very long since I’ve taken time to listen to her. To listen for her voice. To take time to hear what she has to say. About anything.
About the Malaysian jet disappearance. Or the crisis in the Ukraine. Or the common core curriculum. Or Obamacare.
And that’s not say that I’m going to be doing posts about any of those things. That’s just to say that I’m acknowledging that I have thoughts about those things.
A few weeks ago, I had an epiphanous moment in my kitchen – one that involved Nutella and baked broccoli, so that should tell you something about the development of said epiphany – and I was *thisclose* to changing the url and name and entire direction of this blog.
I’m not going to.
Because I still believe in the purpose and intent behind this blog, and its name.
And I still believe in me. The writer-me. She is worth fighting for. And you better believe I am fighting my way back.