Babble 1

9:33

So.  I find myself close to my deadline.  I have 2 and 1/2 hours to go before I NEED to have something posted.  I must make my goal.  I must.  AAAAAAAAGHHH.

And nothing is resonating.  All these marvelous thoughts I've mentally composed come to lifeless sentences upon the screen.  There is no poetry to them, no force, no conviction.

There is a huge difference between believing something, or thinking something, or contemplating something, and being able to accurately and passionately discuss that belief, that thought.

And so we come to the first of our desperation measures - the babble.  Wherein in I type whatever comes to mind for the next five minutes and post it, willy nilly.

Which isn't actually accurate.  Willy nilly - which now is used for a chaotic arrangement or action - originally comes from "Will he, nil he" - with or without permission.  At least, I'm assuming that's where it comes from.  That's what it sounds like, doesn't it?  I could take the time to look it up, but that would deplete from the five minutes of typing and so, it feels like cheating.

This form of typing will also give a really good idea of how I talk.  Words spilling haphazardly from  my lips (or fingers) to flow upon the ear of the patient listener.

My mom was an excellent listener.  And rarely expressed judgement.  I didn't realize it at the time, but I used her as a sounding board and often, if I didn't like the way something sounded when I talked about it, or if I couldn't express it fully and completely (as in no poetry, no force and no conviction *G*) then it wasn't time for that idea.  Or that idea wasn't for me.  I was/ am a pretty good listener to others, but with my Mom I was a motor mouth.  I don't even know if there was an off switch.

I am cheating a little.  There are a lot of deletes - either through typos, or through words not exactly expressing what I'm trying to say.  And so (at 9:40) I'll keep typing a little while longer.

Expressing myself verbally ad nauseum to my mother may have been a side effect of not feeling comfortable expressing myself to others.  Privacy has always felt like a big issue with me.  Whose business is it, anyway?

But the other part, it turns out, is, well, as a story teller, I had a tendency to just open my mouth and say anything.  And then I'd be left with these words and thoughts I didn't really believe.  So I learned, practiced, tried to keep my mouth shut.

Until now.  These last few years I've allowed myself to speak again.  Because I know what I believe.  And, actually more important, if I say something that's not a personal belief or knowledge, I know how to retract, or express my total lack of ignorance.  Because I've learned to accept myself.

Which is amusing, because the piece I was trying to right is about accepting - accepting self and others, and the different between accepting someone and admiring them.  So at least I wound up back on topic, didn't I?

And that puts it at 9:45.  Weird, since I am a pretty fast typer, that it takes so long to write so little.  So little in words anyway.  But the intensity behind it is huge.  Isn't it?  And, I'm not even going to proof read it.  So we'll see how I feel about this post tomorrow.

Thank you for reading.   This end the babble.

9:47

I hope you have a great day!

-Lila