I contributed an essay to a book. Two, actually. It's a book with fifteen other peoples' essays, too. It's a book about being Mormon. But the parts we don't always hear about. And with essays that may not even use the word "Mormon." It's a book about the Mormon experience sprinkled with vomit (a lot, I think), jokes, jokes, jokes, touches of grace, more jokes, and maybe a little . . . enlightenment. For we who are Mormon. For we who are not but have always been curious about whether those of who aren't Mormon can fundamentally connect with those of us who are. We do, I think. On so many things.
This book will mostly make you laugh. But also probably cry. In a couple of places, laugh until you cry. Think, for sure. Relate, definitely. Occupy the here and now and be totally and completely present as you read it--yes. That, too.
I'm totally going to cheat and copy this from Becca Wilhite's explanation because it is a good one: A bunch of us (bloggers, writers, thinkers, people, Mormons) we put some words together. Some funny words. Some sad words. Some thoughtful words. Words that we use to describe ourselves. To explain ourselves. To share who we are.
But wonderful book aside, I have many things to tell you guys. Every day I compose blog posts in my head about the funny or odd or poignant things I see or think or feel. But I can't figure out where to carve the time from days as they now unfold to sit and write them. I'm also often wrung out from the writing and revising I do constantly as it is. I don't want to think about choosing and stringing together words for even one more second, one more word. Definitely not for a whole blog post.
But . . . I miss this space. And I see a little give in my schedule coming up that may allow me a bit more to be here more, and in your blog spaces more. But in the interests of staying sane, I'm keeping my expectations low and doing what I can for the moment so I don't stretch myself any thinner.
Do I sound like an emotionally exhausted crazy person? I thought so. Don't worry; this introspection is purely and totally the fault of the 8 oz of Diet Dr. Pepper that I drank too close to bed time last night, thus causing me to suffer lack of sleep, thus causing me to be kind of blah today. I am about to go experience the wonderful restorative powers of a good book and a nap. Then I shall be chipper, etc.
Also, the chocolate I'm about to consume can only help.