Posted by: Linda B | January 1, 2010

to dance again

I remember when I had another blog. One that was pretty. Individual. Reflected me. It had my stories. My thoughts. My memories. Perhaps a bit of my dreams. I wrote what I felt, thought, and believed or pretended to. I was clever, funny and maybe a few other things. While I was in that pretty place, I recognized a best friend I’d never known before.

But see… it’s one thing to poke around behind the shelves, pictures and shadows of the mind and write it down; it’s dangerous moreso when others you don’t want to find it…do.

When they do, you have to close the door, turn the key, flip off the lights and you quietly you tell yourself, “It’s just for a little while. Let the drama die. We’ll be back to prance and cavort about again.”

And then you stop dancing with the words [because there really just isn’t enough room to hold them all inside and they get lost and collide and wander about in the dark], your fingertips no longer feel the ethereal connection of others [because paper doesn’t comment], you stop dreaming or pretending behind the lens and shutter [because often what we love is to share what we love] and the snarky, opinionated, deft and skillfulness that once whooshed through the air from thought to font… grows tarnished and dull.

Those glimpses are gone … different and changed in this plain safe place … gone forever and there are days I miss it.

I miss dancing. Connecting. Dreaming. Sharing. Whooshing.
Not the pretending.

Inside there is a voice [or three], “Okay, it’s gone. Yeah, yeah. But you do have a job, a car, friends, family, thirty-eight cents in your wallet. Oh boo hoo, your Blog is gone. You think you can’t do that again? You got brains, stop sitting on them. You’ve got time, stop wasting it. Stop whinging about it and do something.” [Yes, one of the voices is a wonky voweled Brit].

Then there is that other one. “Fuck off, you. You… Voice of Do-It-Ness. G’way. We’re tired and that takes energy.” [This one seems to be distinctly American].

Neither has won yet. So, here I am. Still.
Wondering when the right note will draw me in to dance again.


  1. Well, talk about a pleasant surprise! 🙂 How the heck are ya?!

  2. Feeling rusty. 🙂

  3. Good gracious! I have missed you & your writings.

    The dancer may be sore, but she is not yet a fixed-state pretzel! This is my song, my trill, my note to woo you back.
    Of course, keep in mind that my dog’s ears go flat when I sing– and I just use rotten English & even worse grammar. But I still miss you…

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