Thinking

I used to be a blogger.
and then I wasn't.

I started blogging for two reasons.
First, because I have a terrible memory and I loved the idea of a journal I could look back on to remind me of all the little things I know I'll forget in time. I kept a journal as an adolescent and when I've gone back and read them it's been beyond entertaining. The journals themselves are quite serious looking. Large, burgundy leather affairs with "Journal" embossed on the front in gold. My entries, however,would be better suited to one of those small,silly pink books with a delicate gold lock on the front. Frivolous. I wrote almost entirely about boys. Giddy, foolish things. And yet I love looking back at my past self, even if she is embarrassing at times. I know looking back at these days will be really important and...beautiful, I think.
So first - to remember.
Second was to write something. Anything.
A blogger is not a writer. Or, at least not all bloggers are writers. Some are. Some are amazing. But most are just normal people, at home in their sweats, pouring their poorly worded thoughts onto the internet.
I have a 25 year old elementary school assignment by Mandy Wilde that says "When I grow up I want to be..." and I filled in "a writer." At the top of the page in the area left for a drawing is a girl with crayola red hair scribbled around her face with a pencil and a piece of paper.
In middle school I excelled at essays and book reports. In high school I first wrote for, them became editor-in-chief of the school newspaper. In college I chose Journalism as my major and wrote for the school paper. Then I (briefly) changed my major to Technical Writing, then Public Relations and finally settled on English. All I wanted was to write...but I didn't know what or how and eventually I decided that my area of study (none of them!) were the kind that helped a person get a job or earn a living and I just quit. I thought, if I want to write I can do it anytime or anywhere, right?
Except I never did.
I know how to write. Don't use this as a measure of my skill - this is just what the title says it is - thinking. I'm a good writer. (Cocky, much?) I even think I could write a good book. But I lack ideas and follow through and ideas and focus and ideas. And did I mention ideas? Because I don't have any.
So second - to write

I loved blogging. But it's HARD! It takes time and focus! I'm not the best at focusing on things like this - I have housework ADD. I've written one page of words and it's taken me an hour. I've stopped and left the computer SEVERAL times. Twice to untangle the puppy from his tether outside. Once to boil water for tea. Once to let the puppy inside. Once to take a washcloth away from him that he pulled from the pile of clean laundry on the couch. That time I actually folded all that laundry and put it away. Once to take the boiling kettle off the stove and pour the water in to my teapot. That time I wiped down the counter and made myself a piece of toast, too.
When I add in all those things an hour at the computer doesn't sound like a ridiculous amount of time...but it feels like it. It feels like sitting around and wasting time. So that's part of why it's hard.

But I think it's important, and I enjoy it, so I'm going to try to come back to blogging. I'm going to try not to obsess over the time I missed and just move forward with the memories. Wish me luck.