My parents are visiting this weekend. I love when they visit. Mostly. My weird and wonderful genetic makeup comes from them, so for the most part, they “get” me. They’re a blast, they spoil me rotten, and Leo adores them. It’s all good – most of the time. All was going smoothly this visit until my amazing, exasperating Mother “caught” me in the act of writing yesterday’s post. Which led to a lecture on the uselessness of sharing my trivial little life with the worldwide web and the promise that no good would come from said endeavor. My Mother is very computer literate. She is NOT internet friendly. Facebook is a waste of time in her opinion (okay, so for the most part, she miiiight have a point there) and in the past when insanity broke out on my FB page, let’s just say she was less than sympathetic. There may have been a “it’s exactly what you deserve” conversation involved… So when I say she doesn’t approve, you understand the depths to which she doesn’t approve. This whole conversation – which didn’t really end badly being as I simply agreed with everything she said as I pushed the “publish” button, caused me to lay awake a while last night trying to pinpoint exactly WHY I am driven to post this little blog, when as she pointed out, I could just as easily keep a private journal on my laptop. I couldn’t come up with a good enough excuse – I mean reason… Until 2 am. When a very dorky, very annoying rhyme popped into my head and wouldn’t go away. Since it is now firmly embedded in MY subconscious – I’m going to share it so it can delight and torment you too. Here goes…
I blog to share a part of me
I hesitate to let you see
so hidden here in cyberspace
I bare my soul and hide my face
Yup. I know. Sorry about that. I said I was a closet poet – I never said I was a GOOD closet poet. I’m in the closet for a reason. Anyway… so then, at around 6 am this morning, while nursing my sleeping son and trying in vain to scrub that annoying little verse from my brain, another poem mercifully replaced it. Sadly, this one I didn’t write. But it explains PERFECTLY why I do what I do.
We make ourselves a place apart
Behind light words that tease and flout
But oh, the agitated heart
Till someone find us really out
Tis pity if the case require,
(or so we say) that in the end
We speak the literal to inspire
The understanding of a friend
But so with all, from babes that play
At hide and seek, to God afar
So all who hide too well away
Must speak and tell us where they are.
Robert Frost – 1915
I’m right here. Can you see me?