I had been writing every Saturday morning, just to keep my chops in shape. I missed writing, I missed reviewing something I was thinking of, “talking” about something current, or something important to me, and I missed starting conversations. Not face-to-face, ‘cuz, you know, introvert, but still, conversations.
I found pretty early on that I needed to write, well, pretty early, or I’d lose my train of thought or ability to focus on what I’m doing for more than ten minutes or something like that. That time before the sun is up, when the majority of cable channels are still showing infomercials, and when for some people it’s still last night, that time is the best time for me to write. Except I keep running out of ideas. Okay, not really run out of ideas so much as run out of ideas I want to share here. There are still quite a few things I choose not to share in this blog, for a variety of reasons, not the least of which is my identity isn’t exactly anonymous here. On my previous blogging site, I had two identities, and I posted under each, one public, one a bit more hidden. The latter started getting more preachy and more instructive, which in small doses is not a big deal. As a constant, though, it gets harder and harder for me to come up with topics. Since I didn’t want that blog to be connected to me, I never promoted it on my social media site, so no one read it unless they stumbled on it by accident.
I thought perhaps I would use the Saturday morning writing to just talk about what’s on my mind, or maybe use some of my photographs to inspire a subject or story. It was a lovely thought, and it did work for a while…until it didn’t. I found it harder and harder to get up, harder to walk over to my computer in my spacious 300 square foot room, harder to turn on my computer, and harder to write about something new. Or even a new spin on something old, I wasn’t picky. There were Friday nights that went late, Saturday mornings where I didn’t have time to do anything but leave the house for whatever I’d planned, and Saturday afternoons when I just wasn’t home. Saturday evenings, unless it was after 11, were just right out of the question. My attention span is about non-existent then.
So what to do? I still wanted to write, still wanted to post, but it was getting more and more difficult to post on Saturday mornings. Sunday mornings during the summer are fine, but starting next week, I have to leave early for choir rehearsals. Church choir starts up again. Our first rehearsal for the season is Thursday. Bad girl, I don’t go to church if I’m not singing in the choir. It’s not that I don’t like my church – I *really* do. But something I learned years ago, something that hasn’t changed, really bothers me. There’s a lot of singing in my church. Not just the three main hymns, but a couple of responses that we all know by the time we’re 6, if we grew up there. I didn’t until I was 13, but that’s because mom let us decide for ourselves where we wanted to go. Skin in the game, as it were. The church I first joined is still standing, ‘tho the congregation is small. I keep meaning to stop by when I don’t have to sing. Hasn’t worked out, yet. Back to why.
Lots of singing in church. And despite what some people think, I really don’t like being the center of attention. It makes me very uncomfortable. Not the same feeling as giving a speech in front of a crowd – that, I have no trouble with. I don’t understand the difference, unless it’s that people aren’t actually interacting, but listening when I speak. Or at least pretending to. This is the pattern Every. Single. Time: First hymn, nearly everyone sings. Maybe they sing well, maybe they don’t. Maybe they sing out, maybe they mumble. Some don’t sing, never sing; most do. Second hymn/response – a small circle around me has stopped singing. If they haven’t after the first hymn, they feel compelled after the second to tell me how lovely my voice is, and I should be in the choir, if they don’t recognize me from the choir. Third hymn, the circle has grown. Fourth hymn/response, the circle has grown wider still, although lack of participation is spotty when it’s a response rather than a hymn. Final hymn, I’m in a non-singing vortex, and everyone is listening and not singing, either because they are embarrassed to sing around me, or they want to hear me, I don’t know which. Extremely uncomfortable for me, so I just don’t go. I tried not singing – I was miserable. The only time I can go to church and not sing is if I’ve lost my voice.
It might sound silly, but that is a large part of why I don’t go to church if the choir isn’t singing. ‘Cuz I really do like my church, I really like my faith, I like the message, I like the ministry, even though I don’t have the time/energy to really do anything.
But I digress…
For now, I will try to keep up my Writing Prompt Wednesdays. It’s easier for me, since I don’t have to think of a topic. May be a bit of a cop-out, but I’m a little out of practice, yet; I’m hoping it will allow me to write creatively again. I don’t know if Saturday mornings will come back with the fall. I hope so. I kinda miss that ritual.