When I answered this prompt last year, I talked about the community of blogging, the sharing of ideas and opinions. And all that remains true. But over the last year, I’ve realized that my blog has become a means of exploring what I’ve known but forgotten.
No, it’s not just been an opportunity to revel in “Glory Days,” although there has been a part of that. It’s sometimes been a dangerous expedition into areas where the signs on the posts read WARNING.
Into the Known
At a certain point in my life, I put away what was too difficult to explain in the contexts I was working in. I had observed from others that lots of straights ( meaning folks with conventional middle or upper-class sensibilities) felt uncomfortable around people who had taken a loose alternative to life, jived around, lived on what to them was the edge, and generally actually lived an interesting life. And no, I do not mean addictive behavior.
During those years, I gave an occasional tithe to the church of the unredeemed Wes ( that’s me). But kept lots firmly under the hat. The blog has been useful in freeing up those memories. It’s given me space to cogitate my veratibilities, and incorporate the bits and pieces into the whole. It’s been therapeutic.
Forward!
Does this mean that I go back to who I was at some ancient period? No. I get to go forward with regained perspectives, new curiosities, and old experiences.
In the words of the old Memphis Jug Band song I’m :
Stealin’, stealin’, pretty moma don’t you tell on me
I’m stealin’ back to my same old used to be!
But at the same time, I’m putting on mileage in new directions.
Now I know that more than a few of you in the Blogosphere are quietly nodding your heads in agreement. I don’t expect you to start shouting and stomping. No need to open the windows. No need to shout, “I’m mad as hell, and I’m not going to take it anymore!!!” Well, OK if you insist! But remember, owning up to your unconventional side is creatively freeing. No more drawing straight lines. No more little boxes for things.
Get out the art supplies and go wild. Go Dada, do Surreal, and dance wildly. Or as George Clinton said: Put a glide in your stride and a dip in your hip. And come on up to the Mothership.
Some people will not understand. Don’t worry, it’s not their life.
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I could say a lot in response to this, but I think it would be redundant. I can quote my mom, “Why can’t you be more like other girls, like Lindsay for example?”