Wednesday, October 01, 2008

Things I am not

Well, at least one thing.

I am not a writer. At least not in the academia-trained, using big words kind of way. My training, if there was any, was at a college newspaper where we were encouraged to use only subjects and verbs. Objects only if necessary; adjectives and adverbs were actively discouraged. AND, if there was a short word that would do, the editor would mercilessly strike a long word. Even if it were more technically correct.

I had a political theory professor in college who tried desperately to get me to write longer sentences and paragraphs. In fact, she famously once assigned a paper to the class along the order of: "10 pages by Friday. Except that I want Kimberly to write 20." Everyone thought I was being punished. I was amused because I knew that she knew that if I tried to AIM for 20, I might get 10. But what she tried the hardest to burn out of me was my tendency to assume that everyone thought as I did. If A, then B, then (obviously the rest of the alphabet) therefore, Z! Mostly, I learned the lesson.

But, as I said, I am not a writer. I think out loud, correct myself when necessary, and continue to opine while doing so. Therefore, what generally comes out of my pen is more or less an unedited stream of consciousness that is only interesting, much less compelling, to me. In fact, this very post is being composed directly in the blog editor, not some namby-pamby word processing program.

However, just because I am not a writer, does not mean that I am not a thinker. Mostly at night, when I should be sleeping. Anyhoooo, I am a regular blog reader, and often think of posting my thoughts which have been spiked by something I have read. But, I am not a writer. And when I try to pin down those pithy thoughts which swirl in my head at three in the morning, they generally refuse to be pinned.

This is all to explain why I never post anything on this blog. In fact, the only other places where I have posted are the brain children of someone else. My husband is a pretty good writer, and I am a fair editor, and the bloggy know-it-all of the two of us. So I manage this one. But he does the writing. Shoot. I can't even claim THAT blog. Phooey.

So, I am reduced to merely gnashing my teeth about things in my head, torturing my friends (instead of the blogosphere), and posting cute pictures of my family on this blog. And, well, since this blog was totally intended to be a way of keeping family and friends up to date on our growing family, I suppose it is doing its' intended work. Except that I never post updates. PHOOEY.

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