Acting as a journalist is a very interesting activity. journaling for myself brings a strong sense of identity, organization, peace, nostalgia, security, and effectiveness to my day to day life and well being. Journalking of others, and possibly a whole community, brings another sense. The same sort of oversight that a manager has. It broadens my thinking. Keeps me grounded in the big picture. It’s easier to find my place. perhaps journalism is my place. I never would have thought anything of it. But I opted for it as an elective in high school. And I did love it. In fact, in junior high, it was me who talked my best friend into writing the first newsletter the school ever had with me. But science and math seemed to far overshadow the simplicity of writing and interviewing. But this is what my job has become. I am getting to know homeowners to preemptively learn the story of their lifestyle so when they need to move, I know exactly how to communicate that story to appeal to the emotions of prospective buyers and thereby get home owners the best price for their homes. And all the while, I’m seeing the big story. The complete overlap of the entire community. It’s a different perspective.
It’s like love. Seeing the whole, complete picture of someone, and the big picture of their life and the world, and choosing to give them that special attention and telling them you love them.
Yikes!! I have a HUGE tendency to get caught up in superficiality. I’m so many ways. Meaning worrying about looks, appearance. How I appear to others. Worrying about superficial details and competing about those details. And things like status. Narcissism. Ahh!!! My mom is back at it! It’s kills me. And it must kill Stacey to see me acting that way after everything she’s gone through with me. I mean I’ve been these at my moms worst moments. More than anyone. When she is real. But then she always goes back off chasing this other fake reality!!! I have her tendency. It goes away from being real, prioritizing what matters, and good relationship. Everything about her is the epitome of that. It sneaks out of me quite a bit as well. It’s sad and it hurts.
I want to call her and rio into her as I have in the past. It breaks her down and she cries. But it’s for the better. It always has been. In the end she thanks me. I’m the only person who does it. It’s is a father role but I am not her father. More like a best friend I suppose. Like Stacey. But it’s not my job with her anymore. I don’t know. I don’t want it to be. But I can’t let her turn back down that empty path again. She would rather be real. She was when she divorced my dad. She was herself. These men always turn her back towards being an object. Why don’t they tell her what’s best for her? Then there’s mass media. Have I gotten off track? I think it’s a response to emotional pain.
The Christians who lost hope. Why? I don’t know. But they did. It drove me crazy. They got stuck repeating the same superficial ideas over and over. Nobody steals my hope. I’m getting back. To believe. I believe in the people I serve. And I like it. This isn’t over.