Upon occasion, I am too lazy to hunt and peck at the keyboard. So... beer.
Some days, I am just too angry to share in a rational way, and don't feel the need to produce a string of vulgarity and expletives that most accurately reflect what I'd like to say; like my reaction to whenever Donald Trump opens his mouth. Please, don't let that maroon ever become President.
|I Have A Different Finger For You, Trump Image: BusinessInsider.com|
Occasionally, the absurdity of the day's hot topic is too much to bear, and I won't risk elevating my blood pressure to levels of potential coronary events; think of when social media is aflame with outrage over everyone's dearest monolithic coffee company not using festive enough paper cups for the season. O_O - yeah that type of scenario. How about employing a reusable mug of your choice?!? Maybe one that matches your stoopid light-up reindeer sweater!?!? Oh no, my heart!
|I Support Christmas Sweaters. See: Etsy.com - YourSassyGrandma|
Other days, I feel as though my words can't come close to conveying the emotions, or that my thoughts are just echos of a multitude of others, and as such, why add to the noise? We were all devastated by the events that transpired recently in Paris; I am deeply sympathetic to the loss of life, angered by these unprovoked, senseless attacks, and feel sorrow for us all - if this is the direction our world has taken.
Not wanting to be too self-indulgent usually keeps me from sharing the minutiae of my life, despite how awesome the Memphis Dry Rub Ribs (that I baked up) tasted, or how sad I was at the apparent loss of Glenn, unceremoniously to an alley full of roamers.
|Not A Pretty Way To Go... Or Did He? Image: Vulture.com|
And when I am done examining all the reasons for not writing, I am faced with a choice: I either have to produce an epic piece of literature that will define our age, or be satisfied with the small truth that maybe writing is good for me - good for us all. Therapeutic. It's a release, you don't even have to share, if you don't want to. Maybe my writing doesn't have to keep readers hanging on my every word, inspiring a generation or expanding their collective imagination? (In the back of my mind, I maintain that flirtation with the vague notion that one day, you'll all be enrapt and gobsmacked, reading my first novel)
The more you write, the better communicator you will become. So I write on. If you don't care what my favourite colour is, what music speaks to me, or how many elk I saw on my trip to Jasper, too bad for you; Flip to something else, there are plenty of other musings available for your education and entertainment.
Did I ever tell you about the time I had a concussion and everything had a green glow where the shadows should be? Or how to make the perfect grilled cheese sandwich? Or which Reese Witherspoon movie is my fav? Maybe I will.