I’ve wanted nothing more out of my life than to become a writer. Writing is one of the few skills I possess that doesn’t bore me as easily as others. Like most people, I use writing to effectively communicate my emotions and desires. To tell someone off without using vulgar and explicit language.
Lemme be perfectly clur tho… That’s only when I’m not pissed off!!! To calm the million and one thoughts swirling rapidly through my brain that constantly keep me up at night. To express what my mouth refuses to say eloquently and clearly.
I know I have written more than enough posts about my love
and sometimes hatred for writing. I’m sure you guys would rather read about something else but the truth of the matter is I think I blog so much about writing because I genuinely feel this is my calling. Now you guys know how infrequently I blog about religion. I usually take the journalist stance and follow the three-things-journalists-don’t-discuss rule. It’s just better that way and I get into far less arguments with random strangers. But at the same time, I can’t help but feel like we all possess some sort of talent. That said talent, if tapped into at an early enough age, can prove to be the most rewarding life skill for a human being.
In a perfect world, I would squeeze out the creative juices at least three to four times a day. I would not only have my posts planned for this week, but I’d have next week’s planned as well. I would be like Wonder Woman because I would be accomplishing so much through my blog. Then I could branch out to dot com status, design my whole website and maybe rise to new heights through and with my blog.
But alas, this isn’t a perfect world because I have to be an adult. How I hate being an adult! It cramps my style to no end! But somehow in the mist of being a very child like adult, I am still able to find time to do what I love the most.
Don’t tell Boo tho!
Thanks for reading and always being patient…
The Southern Yankee