Talk Thursday: Redo - seemingly a tribute to the letter I

There are so many things in my life I would take a redo on, so many things (in hindsight) I’d do over, do differently, or do slower. So I began with my blog, I’ve been lax lately in blogging, we’ll blame it on two things: 1) a lack of get up and go (or inspiration) 2) No time. We are still in the post surgery throes. Ducky has yet to begin physical therapy, his evaluation with the PT is Wednesday morning, this guy specializes in necks. Ducky has not regained dominance over his arms, either, right nor left. While the burning pain is less a constant, it does still rear its ugly head, and in truth getting a man to be in-charge of his pain meds on my day off is impossible – honestly must I do everything? I know totally rhetorical. Given the chance Ducky says he would not do this again.

Never would I go back and redo my teens, although I love revisiting the friends of my childhood. I would choose to go back and redo Psam’s childhood – pretty much minus any connection with her father. In fact, I’d forego the whole married to Chewbacha thing at all (thankfully I up held a long standing family tradition and was pregnant when I got married. Yes folks, I with full pride and acknowledgement come from a family of frisky women - mean sluts.) What I would have done was slowed down and savored every moment – good and bad, embraced every hug, every chance I could to sing in the car with her, I would have done more tide-pooling, more fishing, more beachcombing, more reading, and more cuddling. I missed so much in my daughter’s childhood and I didn’t even know it. So fucking sad.

If I had the chance I would redo the moments where I was mean to a person. Yes, there are a few, they are moments that I relive in thorough shame. When I have the chance I let people know what they meant to me, to my life, to the person I have become. I like who I became. Who I have yet to face a person who I was unkind to an apologize – except for my school bus driver. They looked kind of confused. Maybe there were too many to remember individuals. Part of what boggles my mind over my behavior is the fact that while I was in grade school – especially grade school, I was the child harassed, I was the child who was beat up in the school line while very one (teachers too) watched. Yes, this I’m sure was in part to my smart ass mouth (and probably why the teachers refused to intervene.) These are moments I would definitely redo.

You might have noticed my new look. I’m not a pink person (that is Psam) but really I couldn’t find anything with lilies or nasturtiums as a theme. What prompted me to change (despite my love of green) was the wasted space when I look at the blog on my laptop – for all the space available all the template took up was about six inches of space smack in the middle of my thirteen inch screen. It was time for a change, so I re did it. Voila. In the morning I did something I’d not done in a long while, I went though my entire blog list. I miss my favorite bloggers. But what I had missed more was the inspiration that reading my bloglist is the inspiration. I like that Blogger sets my list based on the most recent post, but it means my time surfing the blog has shrunk amazingly so. Before the update widget, I would go back and even if there wasn’t a new post I would read the comments, make more comments, or God forbid, write a blog of my own as a result of what I’d read.

I don’t live on Facebook. Yes, I play Farkle to excess – in my defense I’m trying to reach 2 million points (only 350k to go). While everyone else is living in one sentence absentia I am yearning for the fulfilling meaty paragraphs of a good blog. Something that lets me dig my incisors in to the wordy bulk of someone’s though process, existence, experience and then provokes me, compels me, commands me to write my own blog. Thank you Jen and Ang - Mir and Joss you are bloggers who consistently blog and prosper. Will I blog more, I have no clue; will I read more, I hope so I miss the daily blog slog; will I spend more time in Facebook, only playing Farkle, one line epitaphs leave me cold and alone. Please wrap me in your words and send me forth.

Sith,
Cele