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Wednesday, December 8, 2010


So as I previously mentioned there is this is a sign I put next to my computer reminding myself to write.  I actually got out a piece of paper, a marker, and wrote the word "write" on it.  I'd show you a picture, but you'll just have to take my word for it.  I guess in doing that very act I obeyed myself.  So I am following my own direction.  Which is quite dangerous because last time I followed myself I ended up where I started.  Which makes sense given that if you follow wherever you go, you'll just end up where you are, which really is nowhere because you've never left. Whatever.

I've realized that it's easy not to write.  At the same time it's also hard not to write.  Very similar to all of our other mini-battles that go on a million times a day in our modern heads .  It's easy not to eat right.  It's easy to skip a run.  It's easy to avoid.  It's easy be anonymous.  It's easy to hide.  It's easy to do the wrong thing.  The little voices in the head telling you do the easy thing are quite powerful.

I'm assuming that this has to be a relatively new human phenomenon of our modern mental state.  I mean, I don't picture cavemen waking up, scratching their natty heads, saying, "Man, should I walk up out of this stone dwelling and crush a donut with triple-cocoa seasonal latte? Or should I just save money, be healthy and just chill here and eat some oats and fruit?"  Or, "Dang, I'm getting soft up in here.  I should put on my running loin cloth and jog around this rock. Naw, maybe later."

That dilemma didn't exist. It couldn't exist.  Survival was an imminent task. And doing the wrong thing because it was easy would ultimately be the demise of the necessary survival gene.  But this whole "caveman survival mode" is essentially an obsolete condition in our time. True artistic expression, writing, music, job choices, neighborhood to live in choices, what to eat--are all choices that exist as a product of our ability to overcome the threats of non-survival.  Cavemen couldn't hide, skip, avoid, or they could die.  Cavemen didn't blog because they were chasing food.  I do wonder if cavemen had any "modern" worries?  What did they think about outside of survival?

So yes, I'm writing, but I just realized I'm writing about cavemen.  I guess that's ok since EGB is basically a caveman.  Without a bath, lotions,  carpal-tunnel-inducing aggressive combing--she has caveman hair.  She also gives me a glimpse into the survival-driven mind of a caveman.  I constantly see the stripped down biological nature of humans in my interactions with the fuzz head.  There is a plate full of food and she'll ask for more.  She thrives on the calorie-rich sugar laden foods to quickly get energy.  She does what she thinks will be the most possibly fun thing she can do in every moment.  She exhibits early signs of empathy as needed for humans to care to each other.  She quickly exhibits fear in threatening visual and auditory conditions.  She chooses to run to get from point a to b.   She laughs a lot at the silliness of a world that grown ups take so seriously.  She takes so seriously her world that we grown ups think is so silly.

I haven't taught her any of these things, but as I've learned in a world with EGB, they must be important.  I'm sure at some point we all knew of these things too.

So I guess that's why I write. It's why I feel that I should write. I don't really know why, but I just feel it.  It must be attached to a hardwired desire to survive.  As EGB has taught me--we're all still cavemen, but we just forgot how to be.

As always, much to say, but not the time to do so.  The Dairy Queen left me home with the spider monkey for almost a week now.  I've survived.  Thank you for all of your support, calls, offers to help, dinners, play dates....not.  I did it on my own.  I went to battle and did the damn thing.  Actually, it was a time well spent with a 2-year-old that laughs like flowing water.  I laughed too.

Once I get out of survival mode.  I'll share Thanksgiving sledding adventures, Hanukah menorah making, EGB skiing, parade attending, and other general chaotic events with you.  Don't let me forget--life is fast like that.

Until then. Our good friend Sheila aka She-ra is getting into the world of professional photography.  When she does I'll be sure to do my part to market on her behalf.  For now, she captured some classic EGB to share.  There's

Two words.  Caveman hair.
Are we moving?
 Why you got me on a leash?  I'm not a dog.  Let me fly down this damn hill.
 Good powder day.  I need some of that hot cocoa with a six-pack of milk.
 Good one huh?  The pure look of wonderment.  What do cavemen think about?

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Anonymous said...

I love your writing. It is a way of survival for some because when we write we leave a legacy. Non genetic yes, but no less important in our own eyes. To write is to remember. And to wonder. And also to exist.

Write. You must.


papadangerous said...

Thanks Ellen.

But what happens if Google goes out of business and my blog evaporates into nothing? Will I remember? And will this all count?