Yes, it’s my birthday (Thank you for remembering, Tim). Cue the bad Beatles imitation.
49 years, if you care. One year short of the half-century mark. 14 years more than I expected to live, due to various health problems when I was young.
And not a damn sight wiser.
I think that if I’ve learned anything in the last year, it’s that blogging is not for me. Being of the if-you-have-nothing-to-say-don’t-say-it persuasion, a daily sort of journal isn’t going to yield much fruit, outside of a laundry list of perceived wrongs and blatant whining about life in general. Rather too much of that these days, and I’ve done more than my fair share of contributing.
Paradoxically, one of the things that bugs me most these days is the lack of creative output on my part. I know people who work at least as many hours as I do, and still do a prodigious amount of writing/art/theater. So why not blog as a daily exercise, a means of keeping the tools sharp?
As ever, that’s some catch, that Catch 22. The Best one we got. There are a couple of bloggers I check on regularly; they are bright, witty and interesting. They establish a very high standard, one to which I feel I can aspire, but then there is the other consideration…
…shouldn’t I be working on something else? One of the moribund stories that have been rotting in my file cabinet for years? That website I once updated weekly? Something that, I don’t know, might actually earn money?
One of these days. Meantime, it’s my birthday, it was a longer day than usual at work, I’m home now, and screw everything else – I havin’ my cake and watching Heroes.
See ya around.
Sorry, the comment form is closed at this time.