Thursday, February 23, 2006
I don't like blogging.
Well, more to the point, I am not sure it is right for me. Wayne and Jim seem to be obsessed with my lack of content. Anyway, its nice at least to have fans that want to read your stuff, thoa I suspect a small part is the hope that I will say something stupid and they can poke fun!
Anyway, I have been thinking about this little place. I once kept a journal andf decided to try and write in it everyday. Then I had kids. And I joined a Lego club. And sometimes I get dragged into playing video games. And my wife likes me to sit next to her when she watches TV. And I had to wash my hair. It seems a million things happened to keep me from writing, but the reality is, I am not that interested in doing it.
But I have all these great ideas for stories and little thoughts that I would like to put on paper. It is fate that says these pearls are to be forever lost until scientists discover a way to extract conversations from bathroom tiles. It seems like I could put them here, but I can't. For one, I didn't worry too much about the crap I put in the journal. I can't do that here. People will actually read this. So, unless I am going to be flippant--I love being flippant, it really is fun--then I actually have to think about what I am going to write.
Its the thinking that is the most trouble. Anyone who knows me, knows I think too much about things I should just do. Problem is, I don't usually enjoy things if I don't think obsessively about them first. I am weird like that. And I just refuse to do things that are supposed to be fun, if I am not going to enjoy them. People say I do things the hard way. Maybe. I think I do things the right way. That is sometimes true, but I do things the right way for me, for sure.
There is hope. I read a quote about what an author is once. I am paraphrasing, and I can't remember who said it, but here goes:
An author is someone for whom writing is far more difficult than the average person.
That's ME!
Anyway, I have been thinking about this little place. I once kept a journal andf decided to try and write in it everyday. Then I had kids. And I joined a Lego club. And sometimes I get dragged into playing video games. And my wife likes me to sit next to her when she watches TV. And I had to wash my hair. It seems a million things happened to keep me from writing, but the reality is, I am not that interested in doing it.
But I have all these great ideas for stories and little thoughts that I would like to put on paper. It is fate that says these pearls are to be forever lost until scientists discover a way to extract conversations from bathroom tiles. It seems like I could put them here, but I can't. For one, I didn't worry too much about the crap I put in the journal. I can't do that here. People will actually read this. So, unless I am going to be flippant--I love being flippant, it really is fun--then I actually have to think about what I am going to write.
Its the thinking that is the most trouble. Anyone who knows me, knows I think too much about things I should just do. Problem is, I don't usually enjoy things if I don't think obsessively about them first. I am weird like that. And I just refuse to do things that are supposed to be fun, if I am not going to enjoy them. People say I do things the hard way. Maybe. I think I do things the right way. That is sometimes true, but I do things the right way for me, for sure.
There is hope. I read a quote about what an author is once. I am paraphrasing, and I can't remember who said it, but here goes:
An author is someone for whom writing is far more difficult than the average person.
That's ME!
