I am not quite sure what to write about; therefore, I am going to write about writing.
You see I realized that I do this (blogging) because of many reasons, but primarily because of the writing and the subsequent fellowship it brings.
This transplants me back to the age of the pen pal and that time when communicating with others through writing created friendship and fun.
Responding to my mother’s request of “Laura Ellen- would you go out and get the mail?” brought on all sorts of moments of hope and excitement. Maybe I will get a letter today.
I crave the writing, even when I can’t think of a starting point.
The thoughts of what I could write about are a wild jumble and completely unrelated. I find myself writing ideas on the backs of envelopes and within the pages of whatever notepad I am using.
This list currently includes ideas about pan de polvo (a traditional Mexican wedding cookie), my four years at boarding school, wide ruled notebook paper , and even a to do list (because by making it public, I will feel more compelled to do it).
The writing that I am doing is devoid of perfect, finite grammatical structure. I am claiming my run-ons, fragments, and comma splices. They are all intentional ,and they are all mine.
To the purists, may I say that as an English teacher, I know that.
Trust me; I know that.
My response? I don’t really have one.
I may even write a book on how I think grammar is really just another form of manners and courtesy and that sometimes we do the right thing and sometimes we do not.
Sometimes we want to say, “Hello, it is so good to see you,” and sometimes we want to say “Hey! Oh my gosh!”
So this morning, for those pen pals of mine that are out there , thank you for going to your mailbox and reading my letter to you today.