I’ll admit, I’m experiencing a bit of discord as I try to write this “about me” page. I have angst about being stereotyped, labeled, or put in a box. This is something I think about and write about a lot; and here I sit, trying to put myself in a neat little box.
If you know me, you’re reading this to see if the information “about me” is accurate. If you don’t know me, you’re reading this to find out who I am and if you want to invest your time reading this blog. I do the same thing! If I run across a blog that has an interesting title such as Traveling with Kids, I might be interested until I read that the blog is about traveling with goats, knitting coats for goats, and taking goats on boats. Since I don’t have goats, I don’t knit, and I’m landlocked, I won’t need those nuggets of wisdom. Wow, this is easier than I thought. You already know so much “about me.” You know that I don’t want to be put in a box; not with a goat; not on a boat . . . . And if you thought this was a blog about maintaining your dirt road, then keep reading because you obviously need more interesting things to read about.
A diary is a daily record, usually private, of a writer’s own experiences, observations, feeling, attitudes, etc. This diary is obviously not private and I don’t foresee being able to write daily. I’m not to trying to be misleading, it’s just that Dirt Road Diary sounds good, much better than Dirt Road Occasional Public Posts. True to the definition, this is a record of my own experiences, observations, feelings, and attitudes. I speak only for myself; I don’t speak for any group or organization.
Why Dirt Road Diary? I live out in the sticks where the pavement ends. I spend a lot of time on dirt roads. In a typical day it’s not until I get out on the road, either running or driving, that I can actually have a complete thought.
In a one hour run I can solve all the world’s problems. Here’s what would happen if I tried to spend an hour in my house thinking thoughts that I wanted to think and trying to solve the world’s problems. Have you ever read Laura Numeroff’s wonderful book, If You Give a Mouse a Cookie? Here’s my version: If You Give a Mom a Minute. If you give a mom a minute to have a thought, she’ll notice the pair of dirty socks on the floor. She’ll pick them up and take them downstairs. When she’s downstairs, she’ll pass the washing machine and remember that the laundry needs to be moved along. Then, on her way back up the stairs, she’ll notice that the stairs need to be swept and she’ll go get the broom. She might get carried away and sweep every room in the house. Then, she’ll sit down and realize she needs something to drink, so she’ll get up to get a glass of water, and that’s when she’ll notice that she still has six lessons of Algebra to grade . . .
When I run, I’m free from all of that. For me, running is about 2% fitness and 98% sanity. Driving isn’t as wonderfully liberating and solitary, but at least I have to sit still.
There are times when I’d like to share the occasional epiphanies, reflections, lessons, mistakes, and experiences that are mine. Now I have a place to do that.
So if you’re still here and still interested, here are some facts about me:
I’m not a Biblical scholar, but I love God and have faith that can move mountains.
I’m also not a foreign policy or domestic affairs guru, but I care about the world and the people in it.
I believe wholeheartedly that there is a right and wrong way to hang toilet paper, load the dishwasher, fold towels, and treat people.
The dictionary is my drug of choice because communication is important and words matter.
Sometimes I flip my turn signal on way too soon, and sometimes I forget to flip my turn signal at all. Sometimes I’m conflicted.
I’m pretty easygoing unless you piss me off. I’ll probably respond. It’ll probably be years later. Some coping mechanisms from childhood linger. I never said I had it all figured out.
I’ve been a homeschooling mom since I gave birth to my first child, and I believe educating children doesn’t begin at age five, and the job doesn’t always belong to someone else.
I was born in and spent my formative years in Iran, and I believe that loving your homeland and loving the United States of America isn’t mutually exclusive.
I’m not the mother-of-the-year, wife-of-the-year, or person-of-the-year. Mostly, I muddle through, and I’m thankful for amazing grace.
I’ve been told my perspective is important and valuable. I’ve also been told my perspective is silly and brainless. I would be lying if I said I am at a point where I don’t care what you think and I’m going to blog my opinions anyway. I want very much for you to like and respect me; however, I think I am finally at a point where I believe it’s okay to have a point of view that is my own and it’s okay to share that, even if you disagree with me. I’ve never run across a person, book, or blog that I identify with completely. I’m sure I’ll write about things you can identify with and things you can’t identify with. We might agree, we might not. My hope is that you will respect my point of view even if you disagree with me, and I will do the same for you. So, I hope you’ll come along for this bumpy ride on my dirt road.
*This post was originally published on March 26, 2011 (slightly edited).