I Can't Not Write

I find myself (as always) with a lot of thoughts in my head. But - more recently - they are curious and creative and open in nature. Not motivated by one of the two most unhealthy and unhelpful entities: FEAR. (the other one is PRIDE, just so ya know). P.S. That belief about what the two most icky entities in life are is just mine. I could fully be wrong. The point is: I had gotten sucked into some serious negativity and fear-based thinking (about myself, about the world, about - well - anything) and now that most of that is gone, I have a lot more space up there for awesomeness.

This past Saturday morning, I composed a lil speech I was asked to give at Otterbein University. The event was at 11:30. I got done adding mechanical-pencil-in-the-margin edits at 11:15. But, boy let me tell ya, I was on fire. I was having a ball plucking out stories...inserting jestful one-liners... piecing and repiecing together a quilt of a speech. I was sort of in writer's intoxication, much to my husband's dismay. Because while I was "drunk" at my desk, he was slopping eggs on three boys' plates and answering all the "Mommy... I mean Daddy"s of the morning. And it was then, as I blocked out my offspring in order to whip up a 3 minute speech, that i realized just how much I miss writing the written word. Either that or I just liked blocking out my offspring.

So this afternoon, I stumbled upon the Mrs. Hall letter thing. I think I may be late. Because it appears to me from my Google search that every blog on earth has already commented on what Mrs. Hall had to say.

Except mine.

So here goes: I guess I just think we ought not criticize too severely a woman who likely did not spend a ton of time reviewing and meditating upon her blog that particularly day. And who likely did not intend for her audience to be the WHOLE STINKIN WORLD. And who likely didn't choose her words carefully.

And instead let her have her point in peace. And, if we can ignore for a second the package that it came in (a touch sarcastic, a touch critical, a touch self-righteous, a touch overprotective and motherly), I think there'd be a lot more productivity in addressing what we CAN agree upon is a pretty decent point: we have to be responsible for the messages we put out there about ourselves. Boys. Girls. On internet. Off internet. In public. In our homes. In our communities. In pictures. In selfies.

Now, as I understand it, Mrs. Hall did edit her blog entry after so many views. Something about changing the title and maybe deleting a picture?? Which made some Mrs. Hall-hate-a's even more critical since she didn't tone down her critical-ness. Who can win.

I doubt that I will send out a warning to all of my boys' lady acquaintances in the same way Mrs. Hall did when that awful, awful day comes when they have internet friends... but I probably will want to.

P.S. I did a load of laundry while writing this entry and... well... let's just say there was a purple crayon that managed its way into the dryer.

P.S.S. There was no reason for the above P.S. except to make you smile at the thought of all of my undies looking like I pooped blueberries.