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Sunday, September 27, 2015

Come Along for the Bloggy-Journey

Hello, sweet friends.

We brew the coffee strong in the Tubbs household (that's my new, though unofficial, last name, btw). My husband (that's new, too) starts our day off boiling water in our little blue kettle. Then he pours the water over a mound of espresso.

It's as marvelous and dangerous as it sounds.

I start the workday jittery and antsy until I can get my hands on one of my coworker's K-cups at the office and down another cup. Just to really lock and seal in the caffeine. Just in case.

I tell you this to say: a lot has changed in the last few months. So much for the better. For the sake of natural progression. For relationships. Spinning love into family like wool. Piece by piece, year by year, the thread gets smaller. The places where you were once apart are now woven together.

It's a sort of magical indifference. Magical in how new it all is. Indifferent in how it's exactly how we expected. How we planned. We've folded into one another.

And yet, nothing has really changed. I'm still the girl who writes a lot of words. I'm still the girl who has a manic obsession with layering on coats of lipstick (like wine, I'm partial to red). Who is the peacemaker, the mediator. Who has a passion for e-books written by friends and podcasts from strangers. And pull-'n'-peel Twizzlers. And the smell of Home Depot. And though I'm no longer single, I'm still the girl who blogs. 

Though I'm not sure what I blog about anymore.

You see, I started stitching this little corner of the blog-quilt back in 2008. My piece of the world was very different. I had just broken up with my high school sweetheart. I was reading works of New American fiction and getting graded on it. I was singing with a group of 15 girls who changed my life.

I blogged as a way to practice writing. Because I thought it was who I was supposed to be. It turns out it was.

But I thought I was supposed to write for the single crowd. For the crowd that was too good for the bad kids and too bad for the really good kids. For the people who felt left out of the Church.

Turns out that's a lot of people. Not just singletons.

And I think I'd like to be one of the voices who works on how to fix that.

Turns out, I've been holding on to a lot of fear about my writing. And one morning last week I felt my eyes getting hot. Overwhelmed with the feeling that I was selling myself short. That all this fear had been holding me back. In work. In life. And in my relationships.

Am I good enough? Just me. No gimmicks. No freebies. No Direct Message for following me on Twitter (though I have a lot of fun there).

Am I willing to explore topics that are, dare I say it, more challenging than the loneliness of singlehood? Am I willing to offend people? Am I willing to write about working to establish communities that impact change of our culture rather than meet to judge the messes of others?

Am I still up for the challenge of writing stitches on the corner of this fabric?

I think I am. 

Because I'm still the girl who loves coffee.

Only now I take it much, much stronger.

photo credit: 653 via photopin (license)
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2 comments

Meghan Gorecki said...

Coffee. Quilts. And Life analogies? <3 This is why I love your writing. (Also wish I had thought of the quilt analogy first. ;) )
I can't wait to see what words you spin here in the future, Brett. Be brave and just write. This single gal will keep reading and I am sure keep being impacted by your writing, whatever the topic.

Brett W. Tubbs said...

Relief, relief, relief my sweet friend. Thanks for sticking around! You're always a bright spot to my day!

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