The whole idea of keeping a diary always seemed a great idea that I never could take past the first one or two pages...just remembering to do it each day was too much work. Much less, figuring out what to write, except for the daily duties. The heart-felt soul-searching entries I would see in the published books just couldn't be anything but written after the fact...
Blogging seemed even worse -- sharing, with the world, my commonplaceness, or even my heart-felt-soul-searching thoughts, seemed, well, tacky and too much like some of the worst of the divas thinking their every thought and square inch of flesh was of great interest to the world.
But, I have always written lists -- not to do lists (although some of those), but mostly lists of things I think about or come up with or thoughts, lists of thoughts, and somehow, they always seemed to be a way to vent or think.
I am been sick over the last couple of days. A flu-ish, cold-ish, sort of malaise. And it fits with my mood of late, heck of about the last couple of years. And, lo and behold, I though -- well heck. I'll make a list. And then, well, heck, I'll share it with the world -- although I am not yet at the every square inch of flesh, level...I would get, not arrested, but truly laughed out of town.
Ans that's where to stop I guess, because I need to get up and turn on the light (my touch typing is not what it used to be) and feed the dogs (they are sighing at my feet) and take a decongestant and a cup of tea -- it helps me by thinking I am doing something, even if it is just a placebo.
March 24, 2015: Believe it or not while Googling blogs and lists I found this. I had written it in 2010, just about this time of the year. And I had forgotten, sort of, that I had done it. So, maybe it is time for me to really start doing this. Now that this has been sitting in cyberspace for five years....
