Why? Just because!

Someone once asked me why I write so much in the Messages to Gerry section over on .Net. I got very defensive at the time she asked, because I felt as though she was trying to make me feel as if I were doing something wrong. I was writing to another man, after all. But it's not that at all. In fact, I don't believe I ever looked at it that way, even from the beginning.

I started writing there because I wanted to tell him how much I enjoyed his movie. It was the first one of his movies I'd ever seen, and it brought me to .Net. I wanted to let him know I enjoyed his work, etc. etc. and the usual gushy, thankful stuff. I told him how much my kids loved it, too.

But I kept writing, adding to the number of messages I had posted. Not because I expected any kind of reply, or was looking for any, or thought for even a moment that The Man Himself would even give anything I wrote a second thought (if he even gave them a first), but simply because it was practice. I could write as though I was writing to someone I knew, telling them about my weekend, describing events in my life, things I saw, things I experienced, putting as much detail into it as possible. And I also know no one would be able to comment on it, as it is a no-comment section.

That was what I wanted. I wanted to practice writing, giving as much detail and description as I possibly could, let people be able to read it (as it is a public forum) and no one could tell me, "That sucked, Ann." LOL But also, on the slightest offchance that he actually did read them, I wanted to write something that he would find entertaining, or moving, or funny, or something that would make him think, or imagine, or feel something. I wanted to write something that he, and anyone else reading it, would think at the end, "That was cool."

But then something happened that was totally unexpected. People began to write to me, telling me how much they enjoyed what I said, that they felt as if they were actually there, in the moment, seeing what I was seeing, because of the way I described it. And for me, THAT was cool.

And each time I write in the messages section, I tell myself, this will be the last time. I tell myself, this is foolish. Why bother? He doesn't care. He'll never see it. He'll never tell you he read it and enjoyed it, so what's the point? Why do I continue to work so hard to create something that someone will like, when the person that it's written to will never reply? Why still do it if I'll never know if he's even glanced at them?

The answer is...because someone reads them. And someone likes them. And maybe someday, if I ever meet him, maybe he'll tell me that he's enjoyed every single one of them.

If not, at least I know someone has.