Fear of the blank canvas (with long parentheticals)

I'm rarely at a loss for words. Ask anyone who's ever received an email or a text from me. But as I sit here, (insert anxious pause), contemplating my FIRST EVER blog -- I find myself tentative -- typing, deleting, re-typing. Hovering, fingers tense, over the keyboard.

I've always thought I would eventually blog. (After all, I'm a journal-er. And I secretly aspire to write -- not necessarily to be a writer per se, but just to write because that seems to be my element. When I journal, I put a pen to paper and words fly out. And then I look down a few minutes later, and there I am, de-mystified on the page. So writing is definitely a 'me' thing. Good, bad, or indifferent, it seems to be part of my psyche.) I just kind of thought my blogging would be grander, more JEANENE-esque (with capital letters, and planning, and forethought). But here I sit, still in my pajamas at 9:45 a.m. on a Saturday, having stumbled into beginning my first blog, as a domino-effect-result of wanting to leave a comment on a friend's blog. (To leave a comment, you have to create a membership, and then you create a profile, and then the you've joined Blogger. And, there, next to your name is the word "Blog" and it's staring you down, asking you the hard question that's been nagging at the very edge of your over-scheduled consciousness, somewhere, pushed down to the bottom of your 'destiny to do list': ... Will you or won't you? Blog you or don't you?) . So just as my Saturday has begun whether I'm dressed or not, my blog has now begun. Un-groomed, and un-coiffed. Unscheduled, but long overdue. And even though it's not 'capital-J-Jeanene' -- it's jeanene, nonetheless. Because as I put my sleepy fingers to the keys, words came out. And then I looked up, and there I was, looking back from the screen.