gentle readers of this blog may wonder... and certainly Beloved has been asking... what about writing?
ive been wondering that myself.
i have an inkling where it's gone - buried under a mound of drywall dust, moving boxes, new appliances and my grandmother's old possessions. i am not at all the neat-nut libby is, but i find it hard to think in straight lines when the chaos is unrelenting. at this point, the mess is just spilling everywhere, the detritus of the construction mixing with boxes of kitchen-stuff and my grandmother's old things.
just trying to keep track of where it all is now is making me crazy, let alone trying to decide where it's all going to go.
but its true, what Beloved says - except for this most self-indulgent of wallows, i've been doing no writing at all to speak of for WEEKS.
i gave some thought this morning to why this might be so, and i realized that here i am free to play in a way that makes fiction seem like Work. this is MY voice i hear coming through the screen, echoing back, a voice i only dimly recognize at times. a voice i didn't know was me.
there is an aspect to blogging that feels like not only have i been given one of those giant boxes of crayons... and a huge white wall, but also permission to fill it up ANY WAY I PLEASE.
the Writer-Child in me smiles in glee and with fingers fat as baby jake's continues to scribble.
and furthermore, the war must end. blessed be.
and if you have a moment, scroll down and see what your fortune cookie says! mine said i had the best life ever~!! guess i can't argue with that! LOL