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Maybe I'm a writer
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This week I added a tenth book to my book page. I have written or contributed to ten different books, which means that any way you slice it, I am, actually, a writer. One novel made me a writer. My entire career of writing stuff on the internet made me a writer. Identifying as a creative person is relatively simple to do, but calling myself a "writer" has long induced a degree of imposter syndrome that I can't seem to shake. The newest addition is a short epub/pdf called "Opening Up Social Impact-Focused Organizations". I wrote it in collaboration with a world-shaker of an open source woman, who I have respected and admired for many years, Heather Leson.
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As the publication launched, I also went ahead and added it to my books page whereupon I realised that I hadn't transferred a great many articles to my own website. So I did that too, and my site is mostly up-to-date. At this point in history, having a place of your own on the web is perhaps nerdy or obsessive. But I am a digital packrat and so I need all my work to be in my database, under my control, backed up in my various places. I always imagine that someday I will create a magnum opus, but I never really get around to organising all the things. Indeed, I spend very little time on my little living library. Instead I think about new things and am genuinely surprised when my auto-archive share tosses up things from the past that were, erm, good.
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Maybe I'm a baby
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Using the word "genocide" to describe what is happening next door isn't media hyperbole. The sporting facilities and schools in my city are housing so many women and children. I saw a friend this week who has a studio that overlooks a school yard. The Ukrainian women hang around and make phone calls. The relief organisation staff carry around clipboards. The ballroom at my office space is empty now, the people collecting supplies have moved to the conference centre. The trauma is palpable, and I admit to actively hiding from it. It touches my trauma.
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What I can control is how I interact with the world. Some people can see other people's trauma in the face and not break, but I feel too much. I carry around too much, and despite the meditating or the exercise or the contemplation and rational understandings, I still feel too much. It's taken me a long time to accept it. I work on it every single day.
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Maybe I need help?
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Dr Belshaw has been away now for a week, and I've been holding down the fort at We Are Open Co-op as John has been on half-term and Bryan is dormant. I'm pretty thankful that Anne has been around, otherwise it would have been ridiculously quiet. The co-op has some capacity coming up in mid/end of May, so if you have stuff you want to point our brains at, please do give us a shout.
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