Quite literally, actually.
This post should have contained your typical, run of the mill dear diary-esque blog entry. Nothing of note; no revealing tell all story. No introspective piece on how one misguided decision changed the tone of the whole weekend; and certainly, nothing that would change the world, (yours, or mine.)
Which, brings about the obvious question — why write it? Was my weekend really that important, that I feel the need to hop online and chronicle every detail??
I could give you the typical argument, that I’m a Xanga girl. Or I could say that I’m an exhibitionist by nature — I like attention a little too much for my own good. Both would be close enough to the truth that no one would question it. But, I’m afraid the real answer to that is again, a little more bland.
I get the feeling I’ve forgotten how to write, or tell a story of any sense.
I don’t know whether I should blame it on the Facebook statuses, the 140 character limit on Twitter, or countless other sorts of social media, rather than just blaming my own laziness – but it’s just that! I’ve gotten to where I don’t have near enough patience to sit down and write a blog. I can type up a quick update of some event.. can post a quick link to someones blog, or a RadioRadio show… but to actually sit down, and write an engaging story (be it true events, or something out of my own head… ) It’s just not happening as of late.
I hate to sit and think what my elementary school age self would think of me. I used to write all the time. Didn’t matter if it was good or not; in fact, I wrote several short stories about “Barbie” and her friends. Apparently, little-me didn’t know about a tiny thing called “Copyright infringement,” …. Elementary school age (or more likely, middle-high school age me would probably be severely annoyed that I constantly use “So” as a transition word as well… but we don’t have to tell her that, right?)
I still like the idea of writing. I enjoy doing homework (well, Bible studies. I enjoy the reading, answering questions, writing out too long of an answer… you get the idea. ) I enjoy pointing out typos. Especially when they are on businesses, tags on things in the store, or worst of all– published books. I mean, really? How does some of this stuff slip by??
But really, that’s the extent of it. I don’t really write anything anymore. it’s depressing to think about. Especially, when you factor in that I spend a good amount of time married to, and around musicians that write. (Respectively, not married to all of them. Lord, even if I supported polygamy, I’d lose any shred of sanity I have left. No offense to any of my musician friends reading this. I love you, I really do… but, one musician husband is plenty.) And I haven’t given it much thought lately, really. Until a friend of mine started up a blog about living with hydrocephalus and bipolar disorder – and the girl is a wonderful writer. I mean, I enjoy reading blogs about hydrocephalus in general, simply because I can relate. But really, this girl can write. It’s easy to read and find yourself absorbed in. I love that.
Reading all of her posts really makes me miss sitting down to write a story. Not just to share information, but to just to entertain and/or engage people. I mean, lets face it. The closest thing to writing for fun or to entertain that I’ve done lately, was starting up a trip report about WDW. And…. as fun as that is, it’s not too terribly creative….
So… yes. I had the thought that I would keep all the personal-dear-diary-I-did-this moments off of this blog, and only write “worthwhile” things, or write posts that would “start conversations” … but you know what? I don’t think that’s going to work for me.
I feel like, if nothing else, I should at least try to get some writing/story telling skills up to par. Anymore, it’s like I sit down and want to type up something – it’s just that. I type up whatever happened as fast as humanly possible, using as many internet coined abbreviations I can think of, and hurry and hit that publish button.
And let’s not even discuss waiting on spell check to read the document… God forbid!!! I feel a little bit like I lost some of myself. It’s disappointing, more than anything, to have so much trouble with something I used to enjoy so much. Regardless of whether I was ever any good at it, I could sit and just write a story or a poem for hours, sometimes. Didn’t matter if anyone ever read it or not, I enjoyed just writing it to write.
Now, ten minutes in, I get frustrated and pass on the whole thing. How does something like that happen?
So, (Ergo, Hence, As it were, Therefore, ) you may be seeing a lot of that type of entry from me. Just stories for the sake of telling stories. Apologies in advance, in case you find out more about me than you ever wanted to know…
Reading back over this blog entry.. it’s funny. Though it’s not the blog entry I intended to write…. It’s very much “me.”
I had planned on telling you all about my weekend, and got completely and utterly sidetracked. If you know me personally, you know that without a doubt, this is true.
Which really, is a shame. It would have made for an interesting story. I made friends with the security guy at The Hunt Club (he likes to fish. With his godson,) learned that I have got to stop calling World is Gonna Change You a stripper song (and then dancing to it) finally met one of my OKC hydrocephalus families (cutest little girl EVER,) and somehow ended up having a great support group meeting– when everything that could go wrong, did!
And still … had plenty of time to get even more addicted to Lost. (6 hour Lost marathon. Never should have started watching this show… )
Next time, then!