Probably not. But that’s not going to stop me from jumping in and joining the party.
I’d like to think I’m doing this for my family. I would love to have access to journals from my parents, grandparents, or other relatives. But my own young adult kids haven’t been interested in knowing what I think since they turned twelve or thirteen.
I’m doing this mostly for myself. I’ve been a writer my whole life, and I can’t keep from writing. I cherish my old journals, even though much of what I’ve written, especially during those angst-filled teenage years, is downright embarrassing.
I love reading blogs. I’ve always been an avid reader; reading satisfies my need to live more than one life. Blogs unfold day by day, providing the reader with an up to the minute view of a person’s life.
Will anyone be interested in reading about my life? I don’t know. A friend once told me I was the most creative person she knew, but that doesn’t say as much about me as about her. (She definitely needs to meet more creative types.) I’m mildly, but not wildly, creative. I’m smart, but not brilliant. I’m funny sometimes, but not hilarious. I’m rather ordinary, with touches of eccentricity, obsessions, and struggles.
What do I plan to write about? Whatever I’m thinking about at the moment. I suspect this blog will be mostly about family, friends, food, books, and things that tickle, anger or fascinate me. I probably won’t tackle the big questions of life; I’ll leave that to folks who like to dwell on that stuff. So far, the biggest mystery of my life is this: How could I have had a ten-pound baby and only lost eight pounds?
I’d like to think I’m doing this for my family. I would love to have access to journals from my parents, grandparents, or other relatives. But my own young adult kids haven’t been interested in knowing what I think since they turned twelve or thirteen.
I’m doing this mostly for myself. I’ve been a writer my whole life, and I can’t keep from writing. I cherish my old journals, even though much of what I’ve written, especially during those angst-filled teenage years, is downright embarrassing.
I love reading blogs. I’ve always been an avid reader; reading satisfies my need to live more than one life. Blogs unfold day by day, providing the reader with an up to the minute view of a person’s life.
Will anyone be interested in reading about my life? I don’t know. A friend once told me I was the most creative person she knew, but that doesn’t say as much about me as about her. (She definitely needs to meet more creative types.) I’m mildly, but not wildly, creative. I’m smart, but not brilliant. I’m funny sometimes, but not hilarious. I’m rather ordinary, with touches of eccentricity, obsessions, and struggles.
What do I plan to write about? Whatever I’m thinking about at the moment. I suspect this blog will be mostly about family, friends, food, books, and things that tickle, anger or fascinate me. I probably won’t tackle the big questions of life; I’ll leave that to folks who like to dwell on that stuff. So far, the biggest mystery of my life is this: How could I have had a ten-pound baby and only lost eight pounds?
I’ll throw in some photos from time to time, even though I’m not much of a photographer. I hope to gain skill in that area as we go along.
I hope there’s someone out there reading whatever I have to say. I don’t promise to write every single day, but I’ll write as often as I can. I would love feedback, so don’t be shy about leaving comments.
I hope there’s someone out there reading whatever I have to say. I don’t promise to write every single day, but I’ll write as often as I can. I would love feedback, so don’t be shy about leaving comments.
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