I keep wondering why I write blogs, I seldom update. I seldom have profound advice to add, and yet I think about writing blogs all the time… but this is why I don’t get around to it.
See, my house isn’t the most productive place to live. People are yelling all the time, no matter how important whatever I’m going is, my mother often interrupts me and gets me to do things which if I don’t do, results in more yelling than I can handle without getting bitchy myself, a state in which I do not like to live. It’s something of a dry house sometimes, and yet I can still write here. Every day I find new things to do, create…
But my attention span isn’t the best and I don’t have the best sense of self responsibility, time, will or self confidence. Not a lot of people read my blogs, anyway. Right?
But then there are days, like today when I remember that I don’t just blog for whatever sort of “fame” people seem to think they get (and sometimes do) from the practice. I don’t blog to bitch everyone out. I don’t blog to reminisce over my life (however short it has been, thus far). I have no misguided notion that little ol’ me will change anyones life or views.
I’m here because I’m a writer, an artist. I like to share things with you. I like to share any little pieces of knowlege I can, to whoever happens upon this blog.
I blog, because I want to share the things I find, the things I write. Because I care. Because, in some small way I might inspire someone to just keep trying…
I don’t know that this has a point. It just is.
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