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Archive for the tag “This Is An Actual Blog Post”

Stuff and Things

stuff and things xI’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again,

“I am NOT a blogger.”

I know that’s confusing, for bloggers and non-bloggers alike, because… BLOG.  THIS BLOG.  THIS BLOG you are reading.  Right NOW.

So, for those who don’t know me well…and that would be most of you… here’s how I have navigated the phrase, “I am not a blogger”.

I am a writer.  First and foremost, beyond all other labels, I am and will always be, a writer.  Not a blogger.  Not a poet.  Not an author.  A writer.  Even though I maintain a blog, and I have a whole book of published poetry.  So what, for me, started out as a blog, then became a place to post what I’ll call, for lack of a better term “content”… like a podcast which ran its course in just 13 weeks, uncategorized things I had written in the past for two websites I was no longer current with, and finally, poetry… it all seemed out of place for the form known as blogging, or at least what I had come to know as “blogging” from a few of my fellow bloggers, most of whom I barely read.

Until this year.

This year, everything I knew changed.  All the stuff and all the things.  About life.  About writing.  About blogging.

I went from writer to author, seemingly overnight.  With the unforeseen help and tireless teaching, editing, and emotional hand-holding of a friend and genuine blogger, I finished and published my first book.  Then, over the remainder of the summer, without warning, I saw what blogging really could be.  Not for expanding my contacts list.  Not for sales and marketing.  Not even for the joy of having others read my words.

But for experiencing life through others, beyond my writer’s walls.

And, with this actual BLOG post, I’m ready to call myself a BLOGGER.  Finally.  Once and for all.  Without fanfare.  Just acceptance that what I’ve been told is true, and there’s an entire world of writers and authors, bloggers and humans, out there.  Beyond my walls.  Beyond their own walls.  Ready to say hello.

So, without knowing what I’m doing, today I am Bill Friday, blogger.  With no agenda, no axe to grind, and no idea what I’m doing.  All I’ve got is a title.  These posts, mixed in with the poems and podcasts, will be known as “Stuff and Things”.  Because, as my friend and genuine blogger has told me on more than one occasion, that’s all a blog, and life, is really about…

The stuff, and things.

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Remembrance Day

remembrance day

The day my life began, I was already seventeen-thousand, one-hundred and seventy days old.  And about one hour.  But what an hour.  I wasn’t ready for her, but she was ready for me.  She was brown, if brown could be its own shade of pastel.  Built like bull wire and tenderness in equal measure, beneath a newborn exterior.  Mine, and more than my redemption.

Today is her day.  The eighth celebration of her life that we, the ones who are graced by her, remember her with.  She is a normal eight-year-old girl.  She loves dolls and hockey, mac and cheese and Brussel sprouts, Shel Silverstein, and Bob’s Burgers.  She is loved, thank God, by her peers and her elders.  And she, thank God, loves her peers and her elders just the same.

And today, because there is love in this world that would not have existed had she not entered it, I write this.  For me.  For her family.  For her.  Because one day, she will read this, as she has already read my poetry.  And she will know that this is who she is to us.

She is the daughter of my daughter.  She is the heart of my heart.  And this day will forever be her birthday.  The eighth so far.  The remembrance day of when my life began.

And hers.

 

© Copyright 2016 William S. Friday

This Is An Actual Blog Post

nablopomo, nanopoblano

Nano Poblano 2015

 

This Is An Actual Blog Post.

(you’ve been warned)

I became a poet towards the end of the two-thousand-oughts.  It wasn’t by design, but rather, desperation.  I was writing for an online Citizen Journal, enjoying some popularity there, and learning what it meant to contribute regularly with my words to a community of writers.

Some people actually thought I was kinda good at it.

My intention all along was NOT to blog, but rather, to write.  As in real writing, not the self-congratulatory bullshit that passes itself off as writing in the blog world.  Writing, as in script-to-screen or, if I was lucky and could fool the right people, a long-form short story or novel.  Blogging, to my snot-nosed thinking, was what people who could neither do, nor teach, did with their caffeine-addled latte musings.  Writing was what genuinely talented people did to convey their misunderstood genius and get PAID for it.

Like Aaron Sorkin, but without all the rehab.

But like a great lost number of self-described writers, my words became fewer as my problems became greater.  Employment, intended to pay the freight and pave the way for enough income to support my future career, became more and more time-all-consuming, and insensitive to the needs of the future I imagined.  Marriage, once the backbone of my beliefs about existence and God, crumbled, leaving me to spend more hours re-evaluating what I believed and stood for than I had ever spent in the crafting of beautiful strings of my meaningless vocabulary.  Life, for all its infinite beauty, wore a widow’s veil, obscuring my vision while I waited for the exile of mourning in the guise self-pity to pass.

It never did.

Until the day I posted,

“If you don’t love your life… change your life.”

Because employment was not my life.  Marriage was not my life.  And life (for all its infinite beauty) was not my life.  As I looked around at what was passing (and passing away) as my life, I realized that none of those things could any longer define me.  None of those things any longer made me who I was.  A job was just a job.  Expectations and commitments pass away.  And words don’t come neatly packaged for the gifting of them.  Existence is sloppy, but life is beautiful, if you live it beyond the details.  So, in just one moment of time, I wrote, “If you don’t love your life… change your life.”

Which brings us to November 1st, 2015.

Nothing says change quite like swallowing your pride and letting go of your preconceptions, or in my case, BLOGGING.  November 1st is the official first day of Blogging Season.  Having once mocked all the Nano-this, and Poemo-that, today, I give in to change.  This is my first entry in the 30 day rollercoaster of word terror called Nano Poblano, a tiny, less neurotic subdivision of NaBloPoMo.  The month when writer’s lives are ruined for the better.  If you’ve made it all the way down this page, you have just read post number one.  For 30 days, I will be opening myself up to all manner of writer crazies, shared with you in the form of posts, poems, photos, and… lots of other stuff, written on the fly and on deadline.  I’ve been told it’ll be fun.  For you, AND me.  Not sure if I believe that yet, but you’re here and I’m here.  Let’s find out.

Next up, for tomorrow…

Rhyming words that don’t.

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