The Parking Lot Talk

I walked out of work, for lunch, much later than usual yesterday.

As I walked to my car I heard someone say “where you going?”   I told my friend leaning out of her mom mini-van that I was going to get iced coffee.   She told me to get in.  So I did.   She drove while I kicked off my shoes and with her permission put my feet up on her dash to get the pseudo feeling of luxury in the middle of the work day.  Being taxied around.  Winded and dined with roast beef, no wait, I had turkey.   And coffee.  Iced.  Stirred.  Not shaken.

She asked me about my writing, my blog. We had not talked  since a few of them had been posted.  So we discussed them.  Which led us into a discussion of perception.

I often question if what I write is a true portrayal of me, the person.   Obviously in this format we can present ourselves however we want.  Many people with an online image remain completely incognito.  Others have an open and direct link to every aspect of their life and world.  And many people have a balance somewhere between those two polar points.

I’m somewhere in the middle to some degree or another.  I wish I had kept things more private from the beginning.  But what I write I want to be honest.  An honest portrayal of what I think or how I act.  I have such control over what I put out there that I wonder if I don’t “paint” myself too perfectly.   We discussed the relevance of this.  And honestly, it really starts with me.  For all the world could know, anything I write could be total fiction.  Which is fine if I was writing fiction.  For the most part I am not.  And if I am, I would point it out that it was.

My main focus is navigating life.  Seems pretty broad.  And it is when you look at it on the broad spectrum of humanity and the billions of us navigating it every day.  But for every single one of us, it is not broad at all.  It’s very new and unique to each of us.  None of us has a manual or a plan to follow.   We have rights and wrongs and basic ideologies but even those are being policed and regulated.  How many of us live in a world where we know what “right” is but someone has a policy telling us it’s not the thing we should do.

So we navigate as best we can.

And some of us portray our lives in some form of creation.   Writing.  Blogging.  Drawing.  Painting.  Music.  Sculpture.  And many other forms of creation that we choose to recreate something of life in.

In my recreating my life in another form, writing, I strive to be honest.  But I also strive to be positive.   Therein lies the question.  Is being positive always being truthful?

Is life always positive?

Not in my world.

I have a very blessed and wonderful life.  No doubt.  I feel I am surrounded by an enormous amount of positive.   And when I’m not feeling positive?  I write positive.  I can turn on sad music and cry in to my beer if I drank beer but I don’t drink beer so I would have to cry in to my coffee or energy drink or my daily dose of good for me water.  Not that I haven’t ever done this.  But there’s a little trick I’ve learned over the years.   And it just works well for me.  If I’m feeling horrible, often times I have to let it rip out of me in a colorful tirade, not necessarily at anyone, I just have to let it go.   It usually happens very quickly.  But then I have to, have to, build up the positivity again.  Sit down and write.  Recently I’ve added the construction of drawing.  To reconstruct the energy and bring myself back to the place I want to be.

I’ve seen negative energy attack others and bring them down.  So far down that it’s painful to watch.  And it’s near impossible for someone on the outside to help someone on the inside find and build their positive energy back up.

The truth is, I would never want someone to trip across my writing and think that I never myself trip over negativity in life.  I so often trip.    But I make a conscientious decision to try not to fall head first in to a depth I can’t get out of.  It takes work.  I’m not afraid of work.  So I work at pulling positive out of the negative.  And I start to build, or rebuild, from there.  With words.  Or lots of words.  Good words that remind me of all that I do have.

So, anyway, that was my lunch discussion yesterday.  Among other things.  But I’m not telling you all (y’all for my Southern friends) all of the juicy stuff!

Some parking lot discussion elements are not meant for everyone.