I ramble. I write. I edit. I wonder. I ponder. I type. I post. I spew words.
It’s not something I was necessarily born with, but rather something that I learned to do. I’ve always been a good, well-practiced writer. Or at least so I’ve been told. It comes fairly easily to me. It’s something that doesn’t take a lot of effort. But I tend to step back from it whenever possible. I see writing, and putting words to paper, as work. It keeps me busy. Occupies my precious time. I’ve always liked being a multitasker and this takes away so much brain power that it needs my undivided attention. Which I don’t like.
It’s always been on my mind though. I’ve considered writing a book. A novel. Trying to get published. Becoming a young author. Maybe even a distinguished one. But that’s a lot of work. And dedication. I’m not sure I have it in me. Hell, I don’t even know if I have it in me to stick with this blogging thing. But I’ve put in the work toward setting up the backend. So I power through. If I don’t like it I can just stop. It can be a piece of me that I can always look back on. The organized chaos of my mind spilled onto the page in the form of ramblings. I’m a legend in my own mind. Or at least that’s what I like to tell myself. Either way, I’ve started this writing thing and am trying to make something of it. Even if it’s just a look into my younger self when I’m middle-aged and trying to figure out where I went wrong (or right) in life.
Read along with me and stick around to see if I can turn those sour lemons into some sweet, refreshing musings.
Love ya, hugs // ❤