I feel the need to blog. But what to write about?
Should I tell you about the wedding I officiated that had Go Go Dancers? (They don't still wear go go boots)
About the last guy I dated who broke up with me via text message?
About how spending five days straight with your mother while taking steroids that make you irritable doesn't make for a good combination?
Should I tell you how I spent the 4th of July in the ER?
Or maybe about how I preached at a national conference this past week?
About how someone stepped on top of a large plastic can tonight at rehearsal and the lid broke sending her straight down into a pool of motor oil?
Should I tell you about how I watched my best friend give birth to a beautiful baby girl? Watched it. As in, I was at the receiving end.
Should I tell you about Steel Magnolia's, the play we're doing in church and how I share nothing in common with Julia Roberts except a recognizably loud, annoying (so says my sisters) laugh?
"I don't have anything to say," I said to my therapist this morning about fifteen minutes into our session. Apparently I'd been sitting with my arms folded, staring out the window (there was a huge crane moving heavy objects!) and giving short answers to her questions.
"What's up with you today?" she asked.
"I don't have anything to say."
And again now, I don't have anything to write. I feel a little like I'm anticipating something but I'm not sure what. Life at work could get easier... getting back into EHarmony (did you hear my mother sigh?) could get me a couple of dates... writing a book could push me more where I want to be in my career.
But what would I say? In the book I mean? How would it end? I'm not in love, I'm not married, I've not reached spiritual enlightenment, I've not found my calling in life, I'm not finally a mother after some difficult birth, I haven't completed any selfless acts or saved anyone from immanent death, I'm not accepting a Tony for my performance in some Broadway Show, I'm not winning the Noble Peace Prize.
I need closure. Or enlightenment or something. Cause I don't know what to say. The stories are getting boring and the facts are getting repetitive and you can only make fun of people with mullets for so long, you know? And you guys are bound to be tired of reading all my sermons.
So that's where I am. I don't know what to say. I mean, I ended up telling my therapist the story about the New York wedding and how I discovered I'm a prude because I don't drink vodka from the bottom of a luge, and refused the jello shots after I pronounced the bride and groom husband and wife, and I'm not a mistress for some VP at Dell, and I think it's sketchy to go home with a man you just met hours earlier. Geez people, we're in our thirties now.
Maybe I have reached enlightenment.
Or maybe I'm lucky enough to know that there's more to life than tragedy and coping mechanisms.
Or maybe I don't know anything.
And thus have nothing to say.