I’ve started three blogs since late last night…and have yet to finish a single one. It’s not that they don’t have potential, at least as far as I’m concerned, but for whatever reason, they just aren’t working for me Nope, hard as I tried they fell flat as a tortilla. I’d say ‘pancake,’ but everyone says pancake and, let’s face it, tortillas are flatter anyway.
It finally hit me, after struggling with the third one for quite awhile this morning…the subjects just didn’t inspire me. At least not at the moment. I may use them at a later date (and you may wonder why you’re reading about fall colors in February!), but for now, they’re in limbo. That place between the initial concept and finished product. How long they’ll stay there, whether they’ll avoid being dragged to the dreaded Recycle Bin or not, remains to be seen.
So, in frustration, I decided I needed to know the answer to a question…what, exactly, inspires me? It would make my blogging life a lot easier if I could figure it out. Clearly, based on some of my earlier posts, septic tanks do. In fact, I can be downright passionate about septic tanks…when something in it (or the lift tank) stops working and needs to be replaced.
I’ve also been inspired by this whole gluten-free lifestyle change. And my dog, and the olive lady at the grocery store.
Looking through my old blogs I can see where some fell short, likely because I felt under pressure to post something. Anything to take up space because I didn’t want to look like I was neglecting my blog. And there are the other ones. The blogs that came together with almost no effort on my part. Clearly I ‘felt’ whatever it was I was writing about.
The more I look, though, the more I think I realize what it is that inspires me. It’s just life. Nothing special. Or not usually. Those every day kinds of things that, in the grand scheme of things, don’t matter to anyone but me. Except they are the things that make me me.
They define who I am because, when staring life in the face every day…with all of its problems, stresses and struggles…it’s how I deal with them that builds or tears down my character. Much more so than how I handle the good things in my life. It’s very easy to see the good in, and feel gratitude about, things that make me happy. It’s the not so good things that tell the real story though.
When I can find the humor in what felt like never ending septic tank repairs, when I can laugh about how stupid I looked slipping and falling a couple of weeks ago, when I find myself smiling when I remember the elderly lady who slowly cut me off at an intersection, gripping the steering wheel like she was in the Indy 500…making me want to hug her because she looked so darned cute, or even the new woman at the pool who was cussing and complaining about the puddles of water on the floor (who made me laugh until I almost cried because pools and puddles always go hand-in-hand)…those are the times I seem to be inspired.
So I’m just going to sit here and wait for one of those inspiring moments to jump out at me. Oh wait. I forgot. Those moments rarely happen when I just wait for them. Nope. I have to go somewhere, or do something. I have to be aware of my surroundings, and not take everything at face value. To look beneath the surface to what it is I’ve really observed.
Of course this being the second day in a row when phone calls have stolen several hours of sleep, maybe I could find inspiration in a nap instead…