Lori Bourne

On Not Blogging

Once upon a time I started a blog. This blog. I already had one, for business, but I decided I wanted one for more personal posts. I wrote a post every few weeks and enjoyed sharing stories about my life.

Then came Twitter.

Right now, it’s been over a year since I wrote a post for my personal blog. It’s not that I haven’t had anything to say, but between Twitter and Facebook I share my thoughts, favorite links, pictures, and ideas so there isn’t much left to actually blog about.

I admire people who are still blogging. I really do. I just don’t know if that will ever be me again. Maybe for me, personal blogging was a season of life. Maybe in another year or two I’ll have the desire to share some stories as blog posts again. We’ll see.

Until then, you can find me here.

Should Blogging Have Boundaries?

I love blogging. I really do. Between this blog and my Montessori blog, I've written several hundred posts over the last two years. I also love to read other people's blogs - I could spend a whole evening just surfing from blog to blog.

But one thing I've realized is that I will never be the kind of blogger that blogs about everything. Some people do. They seem to have no problems sharing really intimate thoughts with an audience of thousands (or hundreds of thousands). A few that spring to mind immediately are Heather Armstrong at dooce.com, Penelope Strunk at the Brazen Careerist, and Lindsay Ferrier at Suburban Turmoil.

These fearless ladies are willing to talk all about their marriages (and marital strife), parenting, families, personal struggles, and lots of other stuff. It definitely makes for fascinating reading. (When I went to each of their blogs to get the link, I couldn't help but start reading their most recent posts). And yet, I can't bring myself to do likewise. I often wonder, while reading their blogs, if their approach is actually healthy or not.

A good case can be made for keeping some boundaries while blogging. All three of the bloggers I mentioned above have mentioned times where they've gotten in trouble with family or friends for things they've said in their blogs. Hurt feelings, broken trust: is that necessary just to have a compelling blog?

It seems to me it's a big trade-off - on one hand, "tell-it-all" blogs are likely to get lots of links, generate lots of comments, and create controversy (which means people will talk about you...which is almost always good). On the other hand, you have lost your privacy and in some cases the special bond you have with people who truly know you. They're not likely to share their true feelings with you if they know that anything they say can end up in a blog post.

I definitely do try to be very honest when blogging, it's just that I limit the subject matter. Twice, I've opened up more personally on my business blog, and it felt pretty good. In the first one, I talk about the loss of my daughter; in the second, I give a candid overview of a typical day in my life. Both of them were hard to write, in a way. The first because it was painful, the second because I really had to stop and think about things that I often do without thinking about them.

I will continue to blog (it's certainly addicting), but use it as a way to instruct (my other blog) and a sort of online journal (this blog) where I can share thoughts and experiences. I've had a pretty interesting life, and I like having a place to talk about it. Most likely, it will still be more than anyone really wants to know about me ;)

That Perfect Moment in Time

When I was in high school, I auditioned for the Illinois All-State Choir and made it. Basically it's an event that happens once a year, probably in most states, where the most talented singers from around the state can gather and sing together.

The year that I was in it, the director of the All-State choir was a man from the Chicago area. I'm afraid I don't remember his name, but he was young and good-looking (yay!) and was the director of a local chorus. One of the songs we sang that year was some version of an "Alleluia" that was very lovely, with lots of intertwining harmonies as all the parts (soprano, alto, tenor, bass) sang their own melody line in counterpoint to everyone else.

The first time we sang the song together, in rehearsal, it sounded really nice. You know, rehearsal rooms often have better acoustics than actual auditoriums - they're just tile and cement walls, whereas auditoriums have carpeting and upholstered chairs. So when we sang this song, it sounded great.

However, the director thought it could be better. He told us he was going to conduct it by moving his hand slowly from one point up in the air and then back down again to the other side (picture him tracing a rainbow in the air from one end to the other). We started the song again, and it was magical. The notes just shimmered; everyone was in balance and no one voice stood out. We were all mesmerized, watching his hand move slowly in a perfect arc. It was sung as perfectly and beautifully as any song I've ever heard.

When the song ended, no one spoke, not even the director. The hairs on the back of my neck were standing up, and I'm sure they were for everyone else. We didn't want to break the moment. When he finally spoke, the director said, "These moments don't happen very often; you'll remember this for the rest of your life." He was right - I have. He also told us not to expect the same magic during the performance later that day, and he was right about that too. It was a great performance, but not magical.

Those kinds of moments can happen in many ways - a gorgeous purple and orange sunset, a delicious dish where every ingredient is just right, a piece of writing where every word is perfect and no improvements can be made (think the Gettysburg Address). The thing is, they don't happen very often, and if we're not paying attention, we'll miss them. I'm going to start paying more attention to those rare, fleeting, magical moments.

Sadness Is Upon Me

Yesterday, at church, I heard some of the saddest news I think I've ever been told. A young mom of two kids - someone that I know a little, although not well - took her own life by jumping out of a tall building in downtown Chicago two weeks ago.

To say I was shocked to hear this is an understatement, and the people I spoke with yesterday (who knew her better than I did) are in shock as well. By all accounts, she was a happy, energetic person who loved her kids very much. Evidently she had been suffering from depression and sleeplessness recently, but I feel like there must be more to the story than that.

I don't know what drove her to take such a terrible, irrevocable action. Maybe no one ever will. Most of my thoughts have been for her children, who must be deep in grief as they contemplate life without their mother. My prayers will be with them in the months to come.

I've been very affected by this loss, I think mostly because I am the same age as this woman and my children are the same ages as her kids. I don't want to say "it can happen to anyone", because I'm not sure that's true, but the old adage about most people leading lives of quiet desperation is very true.

We will probably never know the heartaches of the people in our lives - even those that are closest to us. I felt an extra motivation yesterday to hug and kiss my kids and tell them that I love them. I don't want to take another day for granted.

On Being Bourne

I love the Bourne Identity, Supremacy, Ultimatum, etc. Not because I really like the movies - I like the books better - but because they've made a dramatic difference in helping people to pronounce/spell my name correctly.

Now, Bourne is my married name, which means that I didn't grow up having to explain it. Trust me, there are just as many ways to mispronounce (or misspell) "Lutzer", my maiden name, so I'm familiar with correcting people on my name. When I got married, I thought those days were over. "Bourne" is so easy and simple, right? I mean, it's just one syllable!

Nope, I've heard it pronounced "Bourne-ee", "Bowarn", and all sorts of other silly things. Cue Matt Damon and his Bourne movie franchise. When the first one came out a few years ago, all we needed to say to people was "Bourne. Like 'The Bourne Identity' ", and their eyes would light up. "Oh! I get it!" Suddenly they knew how to spell and pronounce our name with no problems whatsoever.

My brother-in-law is a big fan of the books, and when his son was born (bourne?) he decided to go for it - so we have a "Jason Bourne" in the family. I hope Jason isn't being teased too much with this latest installment. Anyway, I'll  really do appreciate  how helpful the movies have been, and we'll have to go see this new one, just for our name's sake.

Do You Remember When?

I've been thinking a lot about memory - my own specifically, and how it's changing as I get older. I've always had some peculiar talents, including a photographic memory when it comes to books and reading. I'm a super fast reader, and no, I don't skim; I read every word. People used to doubt me on that, since I read so fast, but I had an easy way to prove it.

When I finish a book, someone could open it to any page and read me a sentence and I could tell them if it was on the left or right-hand side of the page, and at the top, bottom, or middle of the page. That settled the question of whether I was reading every word or not. I'm finding, though, as I get older, I can't do this as accurately as I used to. I've read so many thousands of books, magazines, and online articles and blog posts, I don't think my brain is bothering to record irrelevant information anymore. I feel old.

My mom saved a lot of my books from when I was very young; no surprise, I had a lot of Little Golden Books. I remember having my parents read them to me over and over again, and I also would look at them by myself even before I could read. Now, my daughter is at the perfect age for these books and we're reading them together. I've noticed a curious phenomena.

All of these books have very distinct illustrations; the colors are vivid (almost like Technicolor) and the style is similar from book to book. If you've read the older ('70s) Little Golden Books, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about. When I look at the pictures in certain pages, the drawings are almost embedded in my subconscious from looking at them so much as a very young girl.

I was reading an article about memory and the brain, and it said that we store memories in different parts of our brains. When I look at the pictures in these children's books, I can actually feel a different part of my brain activate (I'm sure it would light up in an MRI). These memories are different from other ones, even from childhood, because they happened so early in my life. It's a weird but cool feeling when it happens. It's like remembering memories from before I actually have memories.

Anyway, I forgot about a friend's birthday party on Saturday, so really, I'd be happy to trade all the Little Golden Book memories for current, usable brain matter. Sorry, Jacqueline! I'll make it up to you =)