Gina Marr

The quietness on my blog, I apologize for this but I’ve been working and thinking and being generally “away” from my computer in the evenings which is when I get my blogging done but needless to say some life will return here relatively soon.

A lot of people ask me why I never write so much here and I think it’s simply because I am better with visuals. I associate emotions and events with images and truly love to tell a story with them much more than with words. However I write all the time, pushing myself to write at least once a day in my journal, an overview of the day’s highs and lows so that I may look back in a week, a month or a year and see some physical proof that I indeed existed on January 8th 2009 or some other date I don’t want to forget. Because time escapes us so quickly, it’s easy to lose a day and all the amazing and/or terrible things that happened on that day get lost right along with it. So it was suggested to me that I share some of this writing here in hopes that the people who read this blog will see I am actually a flesh and bones human being and not just a computer that pushes “publish” every hour Monday through Friday.

It is extremely hard for me to share this. I don’t like how this all sounds when I read it back to myself.

April 1, 2009

There is a bench around the corner from my office where I go to read sometimes and it’s “my bench” now and when I am having an off day it’s an absolute must to go there and read, smoke too many cigarettes, rain or shine. Completely close myself off from all the people passing by going to their next appointment, to lunch, to here, there and everywhere. The sounds of this city disappear and are replaced with your wonderful words read aloud in my head. And especially in the rain sitting there freezing to death I have had these “a ha” moments where the only warmth I feel is from the hot tears rushing down my face and splattering onto the paper in my hands. It’s very good to cry in the rain. The water from the sky and the water from your eyes mixes together and in that moment I realize that quite possibly the whole world is crying with me and I feel a little less alone and a little less small. I have wells of tears from over many years and over many people stored up for such occasions. And in these past few weeks it feels as if I am always on the verge to cry, that any second a word or a glance will be the final hit it takes to crack open my makeshift dam and a huge surge of hot salty water will come pouring down my face.

But I don’t want to complain about it, I like to cry just as much as I hate it.