I dunno. I guess I’m kind of, sorta a writer. I think I’ve written enough that I can say that and not feel like too much of a faker.
Sometimes, I’m just glad that y’all let me play in your sandbox. Other times, I’m like “What the hell am I doing here? Y’have the nerve to call this a blog? Does anybody hear or give a shit what I say?”
I catch myself looking for feedback. I joke about being so Sally Field… “You like me. You really like me!” I worry about everything that flies off my fingertips here. Do I talk too much? Not enough?
I can see there are topics, phrases, labels that engender far more interest but… I don’t think the blogging world needs another skirt to peek up under. Those blogs are a dime a dozen and I doubt that my variations and predilections would have much value beyond transient titillation. Ha! I said “tit” and got in some alliteration… gratuitous and annoying all in one sentence.
So… kicks metaphorical Converse-clad toe in sandbox dirt… I’ll just be over here in the corner. Real quiet, reading, watching and like, writing poetry and shit.
12 December 2013