An Introduction

“Writing, to me, is simply thinking through my fingers.”

Isaac Asimov

It has come to my attention that wehave some new faces around here! New readers, I suppose we could say. Although I prefer to think of you and I as fellow travelers, taking a few moments away from this strange life to talk about whatever we please while we sip coffee and share a chocolate croissant. Of course, when I say we talk about whatever “we” please, I really mean me. But suggestions are always welcome!

So, in light of our new fellow travelers, I thought I’d give a brief explanation this week of who I am and why I’m here on this blog.

If you’ve been traveling with me for years, it’s likely you’ve forgotten some things anyway (I know I have!) so you can join us for the reminders.

Let’s start simple. My name is Ashleyne. Over half of the people in my life just call me “Ash,” which I don’t mind in the slightest, but I have to admit I don’t think of myself as an Ash.

Apparently once when I was managing a new shift at work, I introduced myself to my employees, they expressed concern about remembering how to pronounce my name (Ash-LEEN) and I reportedly responded with, “I don’t care what you call me as long as you do what I say.”

What a jackass 23-year-old Ashleyne could be.

This brings us to fact the second: I am an incredibly nice person. Until very suddenly I am not.

I believe the best in people and want to be helpful and think humans are totally worth the trouble, but occasionally I transition back to that 23-year-old jackass or a crotchety old man scaring the kids off his lawn.

I’m not saying this like, “That’s just the way I am, deal with it.” That’s not super helpful for any of us. I’m saying that my toxic trait is not knowing I’m fed up with something until I explode like Wylee Coyote’s TNT (which, classically, injures me more than the intended recipient.) I am working on this; it’s slow progress. And I’m getting better at knowing what kinds of things I might explode on.

For instance, this week a vacuum (an inanimate object, mind you) was in my way as I worked on a project, and I felt myself getting more and more annoyed (but did nothing) until I suddenly realized: “If I trip over this vacuum one more time I am going to throw it against the wall and scream at it like it’s the subject of my new death metal song.” So I asked someone near me to please remove the vacuum. Problem solved, no explosion.

I understand this shift from positive and kind to rage-filled and snippy can be a bit much to adjust to. But we humans are complicated and all we can do is the best we can with what we’re given. I’m doing the best I can. Which brings us to the last thing.

Third, and probably most importantly in this context, I write about things like my complicated personality and my exploding temper because it’s how my brain thinks best. Writing out my thoughts and emotions helps me to process them. If I take a decade of noticing that tripping repeatedly over a vacuum might push me toward rage and I condense it down to 400 words, it’s suddenly a life lesson that I can wrap my head around.

And so, I write. And like any writer, I keep my writing. And eventually people found it and started reading it.

And, for whatever reason, people seem to find my processing helpful, or at the very least, entertaining.

So I keep writing.

And sometimes people will something like this to me: “I feel like I know more about you from your writing than I do from what you say.”

And I think, “Well, yes! So do I!”

Because I cannot always speak what I can write.

There you go. Now you know why we’re here. I’m delighted to have you with me for the ride.

Oh, and I like to ask questions. That’s a bonus fact.

So tell me. How do you best process your thoughts and feelings?