Why I Write

By now you may be wondering why I write these things. It's not part of my job description. I'm not getting class credit. I'm certainly not getting paid. So why do I write the things that I do and post them for all the world to see on the interweb?

Honestly, I hadn't ever really thought about that question until yesterday. Never even crossed my mind. It seemed like a perfectly logical thing to do for me. There are these things called blogs where people write about whatever they want. Why not write one of my own? But the more I think about it, the more I begin to wonder why exactly I have been writing. What is it about the medium of writing that has led me to jump into it so fervently (well, at least most of the time).

Like the subject of the last blog, it came from the thought of something small. I began to notice that I don't really do well with carrying on a conversation. I guess I always knew this, but it became more clear to me over the past week or so. You see whenever we would go out in a big group to dinner, or when we would have groups of people over to the house, I would talk with someone for a little while, but then they would eventually begin talking to someone else and I usually ended up sitting there silently while conversations happened around me. This seemed to be somewhat of a phenomenon to me and so I started silently experimenting. You see I would usually be at one end of long table when we would go out. So in order to hopefully prevent this phenomenon I started deliberately sitting in the center of the table, hoping that this would make it easier to maintain conversations. To no avail, as now the people across from me and the people on either side would turn to one direction or another and again I would sit alone silently.

But this week made me absolutely sure. You see small things are starting to appear more clearly to me. And I realized after the last blog that even when I am around someone that all I want to do is stay next to them and talk for hours on end, I am still not able to carry out a decent conversation. Just can't do it. No matter how much I want to talk to that person and never stop talking to that person, still can't do it.

But when I write...

Wow. Something comes alive within me when I put words to a page. Every overflowing thought that is constantly within my head but never wants to leave my lips flows freely from my short, chubby fingertips and I am transported to a far off place where I am able to wax poetically and fluidly among the people who I am so desperate to interact with.

So why do I write? Quite simply, because my written words express the feelings that my heart contains but that my words are not capable of expressing.

Pastor Mama Coco