Stay Tuned

Don’t be mad…but I just can’t think of anything to write.

I really tried. I started writing a post about how we shouldn’t waste our lives wishing for the weekend. Every Monday we wish it were Friday. Every Friday we look forward to our Saturday morning sleep in. Every Sunday we dread Monday…only start over again. What a waste. If we only had one week to live, would we still be wishing for the weekend with such fervour?

But honestly, I couldn’t turn it into a whole post. It seemed like a good idea in my mind, but it just didn’t work out on paper.

Then I tried writing about how every new phase of my life requires me to learn how to live all over again. With marriage, comes learning how to be a wife and home keeper. With motherhood comes learning how to care for a child while still maintaining my sanity. And I anticipate that there will be several phases to come that will require me to once again learn how to live all over again. But as I wrote the post, I sounded like such a pessimist…and I sounded like I was stressing out over the future, even though that’s not really how I feel. It sounded like someone else speaking, and not me, so I decided to discard that idea too.

Then I got excited because I thought about writing some of my most bizarre childhood memories. Like the time that I had a dog walking business and the St. Bernard across the street attacked me. It was a lesson in obedience, since my mother had strictly warned me not to walk that particular dog. I didn’t listen, and I ended up in the hospital. And I also wanted to write about the time I was in grade four and some of the girls in my class decided they didn’t like me any more. This led to the formation of the “I hate Dina” club…a club that didn’t last long, and I was once again invited into the inner circle. The memory is a funny thing, and since I dont know which ones will be stored in Amanda’s mind, I want to make each interaction I have with her one that is worthy of being stored in her memory for life.

I really thought that post would work…but the words just weren’t coming.

I even considered writing about how much I wish I could relive my teenager years…only this time I would live like the only perspective that mattered was God’s….and I wouldn’t care so much what other people thought of me and how they perceived me. I wouldn’t be so self conscious thinking that everyone was watching my ever move. Who cares if I was seen alone? Who cares if people thought I had no one to talk to. In fact, if I did it over, I would walk into the cafeteria with a book, sit down at a table alone, and read. That’s exactly what I’d do.

But this one needs more thought. Living for an audience of only one…I really want to develop that one…and I’m way too tired for that right now.

So I’ll be honest. I don’t think I can write one tonight. I’m more sleepy than usual. I’m staring at my couch with deep longing. I’m waking up at 6:30 am tomorrow and the very thought makes me nauseous.

I hope you’ll forgive me. I promise…next week will be a good one.