First of all, I'm back. 2025 was the first time in 12 years I never once blogged. The only writing I did were book reviews and work emails. My self-talk shouted, "What's the point?" and I couldn't seem to drown out that doubt. The point isn't quality writing though. It isn't about the number of readers or if I have any original thoughts or ideas. Instead, it's about me taking the never-ending monologue in my head and releasing it. It's about giving myself an outlet to create rather than always consume. I attend a lot of author panels and the most common advie I hear over and over again from those authors is, "Just write anything. Don't stop and edit. Just write." And that's what I'm here to do. This post will undoubtedly meander and not be concise, but that's okay.
I've always been the kind of person who is looking toward the reaction, not the action. At the movie theater, I want to watch my friends and family laugh almost more than I want to see the movie. I want to watch the concert-goers dance and sing. I want to see the sports fans jumping up and down. I want to watch the groom's reaction, not the bride in her gown. For me, the most beautiful things in life aren't the sights and the feats, but the emotions and the connections we make.
Oftentimes, this can be negative for me. I can be so worried about everyone else and their feelings, that I forget to consider my own. But I think this "looking back" also helps me to know people. I remember what songs bring joy to my friends faces when we're driving in the car. I catch the smirk of my brother when he thinks no one is looking. I notice how someone leans into their partner to calm their nerves. The more I watch people, the more I love them. While we fear the things we don't know, we care more for those once we really see them.
We, as humans, also love to be known. Some of us pretend we don't. We can close ourselves off and not share easily. There's no greater feeling, though, than someone remembering us. A text out of the blue, an invitation, a check-in after a difficult time or just taking the time to listen are such powerful actions that can make all the difference in our lives. I know I'm not alone in this, because I know how popular romance books are. Every romance book I've ever read involves a partner knowing something personal about the main character. Every single one. They might remember their favorite take-out food or take them to their favorite concert. They might buy earrings or a dress in their favorite color. Right now, Heated Rivals is the most popular show on HBO Max. Most of the viewers aren't gay athletes like the main characters, but we all relate. Why? Because the show is shot after shot after shot of them looking at each other. Them seeing each other and knowing each other and loving each other. Millions of readers and viewers eat these stories up. Because we crave to be known.
I was recently asked what I am the most proud of. For years, my automatic response to that question has been either obtaining a Master's degree or the students I helped in my 7 years of teaching. And that's true. I am proud of my efforts and my work. But honestly, I think I'm more proud of the people I've surrounded myself with. So many people I know lose touch or fall away from friends, but I've tried to make a point of reaching out, noticing, remembering, and listening. I may not talk to some friends very often, but I am confident that if I really needed something, I'd have 15 people that wouldn't hesitate to help.
As a single person, I have people concerned all the time about me being lonely or sad. I am rarely lonely and enjoy my own company, but I every once in a while I fall into this sadness about not having a person that knows me. No one knows what the last show I binged was or what song I am playing on repeat. No one knows my current snack obsession or my favorite scent. I don't have anyone to care about what keeps me up at night or how to calm me down when I'm feeling stressed. But I swear anytime I feel like that, a friend swoops in to show me I'm wrong. Skye sends a Marco Polo to say, "I was just thinking of you. How did ___ go?" Hillary snaps me with a simple "It's 12:34!" because she knows it's my favorite time. Bailey texts to tell me she is at my favorite restaurant in Lincoln and remembers I always ordered Pollo con Arroz. Someone in my book club chats to ask if I want to go to an event. Sarah texts almost every Tuesday to tell me that I work too hard then watch a horror movie "together." And those simple moments show me that I am known. I am loved. What a privelege.
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