Tagged: blabbiterlickum

Little stories, little loves. Little things we say and do. Small moments in the day that add up to a storied whole. I can’t think of anything to write about. Wait, that’s not really true. I CAN think of things to write about, but I don’t seem to be motivated enough to do the actual writing about them. I was going to gather my thoughts and write something about the discussion our stand-in guest speaker at the AWC meeting the other night sparked after her presentation on Social Media (or How Not to Waste Your Life & Ruin Your Reputation...

Some days when I sit down at the computer to write something I have no idea what will come out of my fingers. hahaha! Some days! As if. I meant every day! My fingers have a mind of their own when it comes to coming up with something to say, apparently. Mouth silent, brain rabbit-nibbled, but fingers? Clickety pressing and dancing and hopping up and down as if they were possessed. I have absolutely no idea where I’m going with this but apparently my fingers don’t give a shit. On they go! This week has been the wringiest yet at...

Here’s what I think: Despite the very attractive and addictive qualities of sites like facebook and twitter I like blogging better. I think it was more fun before, when people took more time to read and to visit and to comment. Nowadays it feels as if everyone is beginning to be stretched thin and burning out on the whole internet togetherness thing. 140 character soundbites do not allow me to feel close to anyone, even if that is about how much time I really have available for online interaction. That doesn’t mean I will quit any of the other sites...

Remember those 10 days of antibiotics a month or so ago that were supposed to completely squash the recurring sorethroat thing I had going on and on and on like a coldbug energizer buddy (which is how you say bunny with a cold in your nose)? Well, just like the poltergeists in the TV, CarolAnne, DON’T LOOK INTO THE LIGHT because it’s baaaaaaack. bleargh I cannot, CAN NOT be sick right now. I don’t have TIME to be sick. Coveting in a Major Way: Everything Krista Rääk makes (although when I try and pronounce her name out loud I sound...

I’m bored. Well, I’m doing stuff, but I’m not really in the mood. Editing. Surfing the web. Meh. Talked to Anders twice…he was at the airport in DC getting ready to fly to Chicago. Maybe it’s not boredom. Maybe it’s GREEN-EYED-ENVY. Nah. It’s boredom. Bo Red Bore D What do you do when you are bored? I always want to flop around the house and heave great dramatic sighs. But the kids are in bed and they would get up and come to see what I was doing and then Martin would probably roll his eyes at me and go...

Since I haven’t had a chance to post since Wednesday, I’ve had hardly any comment emails. My little Yahoo avatar has drooped and her mouth has turned down and she keeps crying from the sadness of it all. It’s a tragedy, it is. Serves me right for being such a slacker. I’ve made my avatar cry! Or rather…hmmm…YOU’VE made her cry! Yeah, that’s it! It’s because no one is commenting on my posts, old or not, not because I haven’t written any new ones. For shame! *** We’ve started calling our daughter Anakarin. That’s how obsessed with Star Wars she...

Blank brain = blank screen Where my brain is (multiple choice): still at work because I had to leave early to pick up the kids still at choir because I had to leave early to get the kids home at a decent hour remembering sitting in a beach chair on a white sandy beach in St. Thomas, staring up at the Southern Cross and talking to my sister because Martin was asking me all about constellations on the way home from choir still standing outside in the backyard, staring up at the BAZILLION stars with the kids while our breath...

My mind is currently a vortex machine. Below are only some of the thoughts that have been spinning for hours in there. Hopefully, sharing them will cause them to either slow down, and eventually spin to a stop, returning calm seas to my surface, or they will be finally slurped down the drain, which unaccountably seems to be stopped up. Probably with my hair. It’s always MY hair in the drain, alas I am unable to dissemble, because I am the only one with long, dark hair in the household. Shit. We have hardly any money left this month and...

If I stopped writing here, in this space that used to feel so comfortable, what would I do with the time it freed up? Would I write elsewhere? A book of short stories and poetry and meanderng essays? A plotless novel, full of characters and quirky writing? A silly correspondence between myself and me? A paper diary? Doubtful. I never kept any kind of consistent diary until I started this journal, and it often appears the only thing that has really kept me writing has been the audience participation. Would I have a cleaner house? Doubtful. I’ve always been of...