I was all boosted to finally get my blog up and running, to tell the whole world whatever what lurking in the dark recesses of my brain. I wanted to put my words in front of all of you because I KNOW you care…then I read the post above.
I don’t know how to blog!! I don’t know what I’m supposed to tell you all! What I know is blogging is supposed to be what we writers do: we’re supposed to give you a doorway into our innermost thoughts and they’re supposed to shine a light on your life. Isn’t that the deal? Writers write to explore something different about this human experience, to find those things that we hold in common and examine them in some new light. Maybe, just maybe, we find a thread of something that can bring us all a little closer.
About 10 years ago, I was at a Perkins in Minneapolis (the one off Riverside, for all my Minnesota folks!) The restaurant was packed—I mean stuffed to the gills—after the clubs had let out. It was about 1:30am, we’re crammed in the waiting area of this restaurant, and two women start arguing. I heard one say, “You’re not gonna just walk into me and not say ‘Excuse me!” and the other one saying “Bitch, I’ll knock you down!” Well, words become action and one of them pulls out what I thought was one of those little beer bottles (remember those? I remember my dad drinking lil Heinekens when I was young—but I digress) That little bottle ended up being a handgun. Shots are fired, another instance of Black on Black crime ensues, and I am so scared, I go home and sleep in my mother’s bed.
But I was confused too. Mad and frightened and confused. I needed to make some sense of it all.
I started writing to “feel.” To understand what I was feeling and hopefully connect with others who felt the same way as I did. Words on the page made sense to me. They helped me move through the jungle of my emotions and let me step back to see the forest for what it truly was.
I’m older now. I’ve watched this culture become more and more polarized on the extremes: we boil everything down to black or white, right or left, rich or poor. No one lives in the gray. Except me. I believe we all still live in the gray, we just dance in black and white. I think no one is truly right or wrong; we all exist somewhere in that continuum, pushing forward through ethical murkiness, hoping our best intentions aren’t leading us down the road to Hell.
So folks, this is where I begin. Somewhere in the gray, dancing on the black and white of my type. Hope to see you along the path…
C
Crooked Letterz 