A good moment.

When I was little, maybe three or four years old, I remember looking in the mirror, thinking my skin looked green and crying to my mom about it. Oh less than desirable indoor lighting. No, I'm not color blind. No, I'm not Elphaba. But! I am human, which means that I am so susceptible to turning green. 

Does that make sense? Probably not so I'll say it right out. Yell it from the blog rooftops! I always hate to actually say it, but one of the biggest sins that I struggle with is envy. Jealousy. I hate the sound of those two words, but they are always keeping me company as the uninvited guests to this party of life. Seriously, E and J, learn some etiquette and excuse yourselves from the gathering! 

Blogs are one of my favorite things, but they do allow for lots of opportunities for envy to come knocking. Ugh, that blogger seems throw together an outfit so easily. Ugh, that blogger seems do this or that with ease. Ugh, ugh, ugh. 

(Now, a key word here is, of course, seem).

Those ugh's I can normally slip off as quickly as they come on because ... hello, I love my life, but the one that is hard to kick off is ugh, that blogger seemed to write so effortlessly. I've been thinking about why that one bothers me more, and I think I get envious of their ability to capture the moment. They capture the moment perfectly for all internet eternity. I get so enraptured by the need, no, the desire to impeccably describe moments of our life that, a lot of times, nothing makes it to clicking the publish button. The big, bad writer's block of envy is standing in the way. 

When I read posts that bring on a little green, I, more often than not, feel thankful that the blogger gets to have those moments to write about. Being grateful for them helps me to realize the obvious: be thankful that I have moments that I want to write about, moments that I want to capture. 

So why am I making my blogging platform a confessional? A world wide web group act of contrition?

No. I'm writing because when I read blogs, I feel a sense of solidarity way more frequently than I feel jealousy. A weird sense of solidarity that probably stems from that fact that we all wear parts of our hearts on our blogs even if our grandparents and neighbors and passers on the streeters wouldn't understand why in the world would a birth story be public or why in the world are run on sentences now okay in written language? Ha. Anyway, when I read blogs, I vehemently nod and fervently applaud internally with a profound, "Yes! I know what that feeling is like! I know it!" So I'm putting this piece of my heart on the good old blog in the hope that others read it and give a resounding, "Yes! I know it!"

Here we go ... hitting the publish button in three ... two ... one ...