I used to write. A lot. It's admittedly been replaced by painting, running a business, being a single mom, living life outside of the interwebz... but I will say the biggest reason I don't write as much anymore is because I feel like writing should be shared. Ideas disseminated. I had a diary when I was like, 12. I had a myspace blog for a while and waxed philosophical about goings on until I realized I was offering a bit too much up in the way of personal gossip and tabled the whole thing. Then I took up penning veiled commentary in the form of prose and realized I sounded like a pretentious d-bag and scrapped that, too. I've read blogs. Cooking, parenting, pets, random b.s (oooh, this is the new place I went and here's a pic of me making a funny face at that restaurant in -insert foreign locale here- zomg we had just the bestest time evar and you missed it but thank goodness for you that I took a gazillion carefully staged "snap shots" of my epic adventure!!! winkie face eleventyone!) but I just can't get into it.
Not that I am saying there is anything wrong with that. Heh. To each their own.
When I write (with the exception of now, and even to a certain extent I suppose not....) I need it to matter. And when I think about what I feel matters, I realize it falls in the realm of rather debatable topics, and then further realize discussing such topics is a slippery slope. Trolling not withstanding I just am not up for a pissing match via the net. At least after I carefully craft a point and take the time out of my day to sign into blogger. Ha. And then one starts to consider what exactly does matter then, if it doesn't matter enough to debate...or even return to?
And then one might realize, like I just did, that one has taken an obscene amount of time to contemplate a small novella on why one doesn't write.
Fail.
Maybe I should go find a picture of myself at a restaurant and post that instead. :P
