I loved considering myself a writer, I always had. Being a cliche, sitting under willow trees, pen and paper in hand; open mic nights and distraught, humerous and somewhat mind-boggling words sprawled across a page. I loved being "That Girl"; Even I could see the humour in it.Sadly it has recently come to my attention that writers actually write... on a regular basis! Who'd of thunk it eh?
I'm a pretty useless writer; my vocabulary leaves much to be desired, my topics are often gonzo but uninteresting and I only ever seemed to make myself and my mother laugh... now it's just me and laughing on your own is somewhat of a taboo; wouldn't want the neighbours talking now would we?
In fact, ever since it was "just me" I've found writing of any sort near impossible. Hard to believe there was once a time where sitting down with a notepad would produce pages and pages of words that not even I knew that I knew and a night in usually involved a laptop rather than an Xbox.
Its hard to pinpoint the exact reason why I've found writing more difficult. Am I complacent? Happy? Too busy? Bored? Do I imagine that without my mother laughing over my every word, that no one is actually reading or listening?
To be honest, none of those self-deprecating excuses are good enough so I reckon its time I got back on the horse, or maybe pony... yeah pony... much less terrifying... and start writing again; not that I can literally write on a pony, that WOULD be difficult.
In other news;
I have a new job; which is good.
I had most of my long long hair cut off, which is bad; but people keep telling me is good.
I have a flat with my boyfriend, which is good;
but its too expensive which is bad; so I'm looking for a new one... which is also bad.
And thats all we have time for tonight...
So I'll leave you with these wise words.
If at first you don't...
Thank you.
Goodbye.
