It's been one of those months where stressful things keep happening, and you end up getting not-enough sleep and hemorrhaging money. Two pet health emergencies, laptop had to be replaced, car got a flat tire, dryer is broken, blahblahblah. So yeah, I've avoided blogging for the past few weeks. I can hardly stand to listen to myself--why should you have to?
The other day, someone I've known since early this year asked me if I'd ever thought about being a writer. She'd read some stuff I wrote here and liked it. Her question made me feel weird--why? Because there was a time when writing was such a major part of my life that no one who'd known me for ten months would've had to ask that question. Also because, well, she just read some of my writing so...I am a writer, right?
So anyway. Here I am on my day off, in a little yellow house strewn with recuperating cats and air-drying laundry, filling you in on all that. I really don't have anything to report. Does that mean I shouldn't blog? Is this blog just about reporting and documenting my life? Is it just about posting pictures of cool events I've gone to, and projects I've made, or what?
It's supposed to be my own place where I can do whatever I want. Somehow I got into a rut of taking photos, reporting what happened, and posting it. Which is fine, but there's no reason I have to be limited to that. I need to do some thinking about this, if I can free up some brain cells from dealing with all these domestic crises.
Watch for more randomness, coming soon.