I wish I had the drive to be a writer. I wish I had that all consuming need to put down on paper (or on screen) the thoughts in my head. I know people like that, and I envy them...
Like, just today I had a long heartfelt discussion on the nature of 'itching' and why it always manifests itself just beyond where you can reach...and why does it make that feeling instead of a tickle, or a burn or a muscle spasm...and the hubs said...
'You need to write this down'
And all I could think of was WHY??? I am sure there is a study out there, no doubt funded by tax payers dollars, with an entire breakdown of why your shoulder itches.
I know people who spend hours a day writing. I can barely squeeze out a grocery list. And it isn't because I don't have ideas...I got a lot! Mostly involving middle aged woman musing about their pasts and wondering what could have been...but who the hell wants to read depressing crap like that???
I can't even commit to writing this blog on a daily (weekly???) basis. But thats mostly due to being unsufferably boring and no ability to put a positive spin on my lifestyle.
Y'all don't really want to read about how I cut my finger and can't function do you???
I may vent about how my new booth at the antique mall is directly behind the Amish guy selling pies and tastless cookies...and how he reeks to high heaven of cow shit and body order...
Naw, who wants to hear about that.
No comments:
Post a Comment