I Want to Be Great, But Moreso, I Want to Be Me.

I want to be great.

I want to write a great blog, that thousands will follow and have cute (donated by someone who can do graphics) buttons on their blogs, so the good news of Thora will spread.

I want to be witty and funny and soulful (but still sincere) and religious, and inspirational, and make you fall-out-of-your- seat-laughing funny, even when people are looking and you're trying to pretend you're reading something important, like your stock portfolio.

Occasionally, I even want to make you cry. Not manipulated tears of a fake story about a little boy that was looking in a window when a stranger came and bought him a new coat/a pair of shoes/an entire wardrobe and then she left before she could thank him and he ran outside and either couldn't find her, because she was an angel, or he did see her, and asked her if she was an angel, and she said "No, I am a child of God" and he said, "I knew you had to be some relation." (Footnote 1). I also don't want to make you cry from an activity that makes you feel guilty for poking a nail or pin into a covered-up picture of Christ, and then your seminary teacher unveils the picture and says this is what you do when you sin. Because I think that this is more about the guilt of having poked holes in the Savior's face and not knowing it, and less about sincere and real repentance that brings you to God and causes a change of heart that will make it so you don't even want to sin.

I want to be great.

I want to inspire you to take more pictures of your kids, and read more, and read better books (although I never talk about reading) and tell your husband that you love him and remember that you're a daughter or son of God (because you are) and make you think about the little quirks that are all about in life.

But.

Sometimes I like to talk. And talk. And talk. And I make my point and it's a great point, a life changing one even, and then I keep on going, and my great point is completely obscured by all the extra pieces that I had to tell you that led me up to this point, and how I felt afterwords, and what I'm doing right this minute that has nothing at all to do with this post but I just thought of right now. And by the end of this paragraph, you don't even know what I was trying to say, which you also could really relate to, which is that I talk too much, and you think I do too.

And sometimes, I don't have very good grammar. I need to retake basic English, because honestly I can't even remember when I ought to be using a semi colon or a colon, and whether I should have just written ought or aught, but I know which ever one I choose it's bound to be completely wrong. And I like to start my sentences with "and", and usually they also manage to be run-on sentences (don't forget the gratuitous parentheses) because this is really how I talk in real life, except when I know I'm telling something of topic IspeedupreallyfastsoalthoughI'mgoingoffpointI'mnottakingupanymoretimetosayit,soit'sokay.

Maybe I'm writing in the style of William Faulkner. He once had a two page sentence. But he also doesn't often leave out pronouns or say it for in (and the spellchecker doesn't catch that). And he had an editor. I need an editor.

I want to be great.

And I do reread through my posts before I post them, but I always miss things anyway.

I want to be great.

But sometimes, my Mom says that she never knows what's going on in my life because all I ever write are screwball posts about the random thoughts in my head (okay, she really was a lot nicer than this), and that all my new friends really want to know what cute things my daughters are doing, so I should write about Lydia at least once a week.

So then my blog turns into a Mommy blog for a few days, and I post lots of pictures of my family, at least until I lose my camera batter recharger, and so I can't take anymore, and then I devolve back into my usual ramblings and screwball thoughts.

The most famous, best blogs don't jump genres all over the place. Or if they do, they have a bunch of blogs on the same site so each kind of post can go into its proper section.

I want to be great.

But I never post rants or controversial things, because I don't really like having controversial conversations with large groups because they almost always turn ugly or awkward, and I know that I like some things (I was going to list them, but then remembered that this would be being controversial, so I didn't) that are mostly very disagreed with, and I don't want people to not be my friend just because of extraneous views we have on subjects. I've noticed lots of controversial blogs get lots of comments. I like comments (which is funny, because I'm actually really bad at commenting on other's blogs, so basically I'm a hypocrite). I'd like you to comment. Now. This very post. Tell me what you're having for dinner, if you have nothing else to say. (I can always use new food ideas).

I want to be great

But sometimes, in the deep, dark recesses of my soul, I know that although I enjoy writing, I don't enjoy writing enough to make sure it's good before I post it. To rewrite and put a cohesive theme in.

(Unless it's: I want to be great).

To focus on what I really want to say. To write so that many people who read it can relate to it because I bring their own thoughts back to them, only wittier and better formed. I want to resonate with homemakers, and Collegiate Men and Mormons, and Muslims and my Mom and the stranger who just stops by. Like Paul I want to be all things to all men.

I want to be great.

But, at the end of the day, although I want to be great, I keep writing because I love to write.

I love comments, I love keeping up with old and faraway friends, I love to show my family what I'm doing, I love to keep a family history for my children, I love making new friends through blogs. But this is not why I write. I write because inside of me there's a voice that's screaming to be heard, a Thora that needs to let herself out, needs to be articulate (if only to myself) that needs to share herself with everyone (and noone) all at once about why I am, who I am, and what I had for breakfast (Cheerios) and where I live and who I see and who I worship (Christ and God) and what I think, and think, and think....

So I just keep on being me. I know I won't ever be famous (and please don't comment and say that you're great, and I'd buy your book, because I really do like myself and have great self esteem) or a great writer. And (most of) me's okay with this.

I want to be great, but even more, I want to write because I am Thora, and that's what Thoras do.

(Footnote 1) This may have been a true story once, but I've heard and read so many versions of it that it has long since turned into a manipulated fake story.