Sometimes I get on here. And I write in a manic way. Words flow to me. Or not, but I need them to. Sometimes there is a very central topic on my mind. Sometimes there isn’t but in the course of typing, I make one.
This. I don’t think is those. My girlfriend is trying to get me to focus on writing more. Fictional stuff. Not bloggerific stuff. Not all the stuff that I say I will do and never do, stuff (unless I don’t do it). I like this.
Recently it has occurred to me how much I actually value writing. I used to say if there was one thing I could do in this life to make a living, it would be reading/learning something new every day. More and more, writing seems to be the great compromise for that. I don’t know how I would write professionally, in fact, I’m all but certain I can’t. But I need to try.
Maybe I’m skilled in analytical stuff. Problem solving, code, math, blah blah. Sometimes I write quite candidly, other times, with more prose. Sometimes words are hard, other times they come to me in dreams. (or showers) But, those are my daydreams. Expression. Words. I may be a terrible writer, but maybe I can write something. Maybe I shouldn’t shut myself down first.
Amidst all my health issues right now. I ought to give it a whirl. Who knows. Maybe it’d work out well.