I am one of those people who doesn’t really know what she thinks until she writes it down. Despite the fact that I do indeed have a brain in my head, I get tongue-tied in any discussion that ranges past the weather and the price of gas. The quintessential introvert, I have always been a step behind: always more comfortable in my own little world and always poised, ready to bolt, on the threshold of the safe haven of my soul and the real world. I always think of the perfect come-back at around 3:00 in the morning – hours, if not days – after said comeback would have come in mighty handy. I just can’t seem to find the words when they are actually required. I am always the last person to ‘get’ the joke. Those who know and love me best think these parts of my personality are endearing. Most have learned to preface a story for me with: “Okay, so I’m going to tell you a funny joke now.” I have a great sense of humour if I am prepared for a situation to be funny (my best friend – who is absolutely hilarious – says that while I am ‘not funny’, I am ‘a great audience’).
I am a Wednesday’s child (* full of woe…): the poem really does ring true for me. Like all of us, I have seen and lived much sorrow. But like all Wednesday’s children, the pain has been a constant companion since as far back as I can remember. Life is serious business for a Wednesday’s child: we don’t really ‘do’ fun all that spontaneously. I have spent countless hours wishing I could go back and change things. I have taken a terribly long time to forgive myself for the mistakes I have made; the decisions I cannot take back. I do not love or trust easily but when I do, it is with my entire soul and body: boundless and unconditional love: most of those who love me best have received, at one point or another, a written letter which tells them in beautiful, exquisite and coherent detail just how much they mean to me.
I have always wanted to write ‘something’. And until now, I was so afraid of failing miserably that I never did anything about it. I am entering the ‘crone’ stage of my life (maiden, mother, crone) and finally realise that perhaps I do indeed have something to say. This blog is my first attempt to share my thoughts. Please be kind. I take criticism really well – even vehement disagreements – but unkindness has never seemed to do me much good…
I look forward to hearing from you, should you wish to comment or contribute…
Monday’s child is fair of face
Tuesday’s child is full of grace
Wednesday’s child is full of woe
Thursday’s child has far to go,
Friday’s child is loving and giving,
Saturday’s child works hard for a living,
But the child who is born on the Sabbath day
Is bonnie and blithe and good and gay