I have not had children nor have I made groundbreaking discoveries. I have not created architecture that will live on after me or written great books. That is not to say my life has been completely average. It has been modestly interesting in its tragedy and its triumph.
Humans have a need to live beyond their physical lives. The need to survive our bodies drives all of human achievement whether large or small. This is why I write. The perpetual state of hubris in which all humans live requires me to believe that I am special. That I have unique and special contributions to make to the continuum of human existence. Reason tells me this is a lie, but the desire remains nonetheless.
To satisfy the imperious urge for immortality, I will write this blog for some period of time. I will, however, do so anonymously. Anonymity allows me to be honest in sharing the events of my life without fear of discovery or collateral harm to others. More importantly, remaining anonymous will allow me to focus on the writing.
As I begin, I have no idea whether this little blog will ever be read or even how long I will keep at it. However, it will be in the digital world and will serve as a marker that I existed. It will quell the inner voice that tells me to do something meaningful. I had thought of attempting to write in a completely gender neutral fashion. I realized, though, that this would prevent my truth from being fully expressed and that would not do.
I expect my posts to be wholly unfocused; addressing the current week’s thoughts, observations and learnings of an unremarkable life. These observations will be delivered through the filters of a fifty-something year old woman. A woman’s musings about living, searching, loving, grasping, joining and leaving. A woman’s musings of stuff and things.