I could be writing about a lot of things right now, and the words would go right off the page and fall to the floor. At age 69 I have a health issue about which I could write that has no, or practically no solution. As a widow I have a range of topics I could blog about. As a sociable loner I could write about That. As a constant thinker I could pick any subject.
But then I stop. What if I end up telling too much? (And what is too much?) Or what if what I write is a crashing bore? The reason why I have this blog is certainly not to be considered a crashing Bore. And what if it ends up sounding stupid? (And what is stupid?)
That's the thing about blogging. The constant lure of the blank page to empty out all of my feelings balanced by the pull of caution to watch out what I write because once out in the blogosphere, words hang forever, maybe to come back and bite.
And so instead of making a decision now, I am going downstairs to make dinner. A chicken thigh smothered in cream of mushroom soup. Petite carrots and hot rice on the side.
Mon, Mar 25, 2013 08:23 PM PST
I am back from dinner and a few TV serials. I do have a hanging thought on the above and that has to do with what a good personal blog should be. I think that a good personal blog should be personal, inwardly personal, not just about playing tennis or hiking the nearby hills, but thoughts and feelings that run through the mind and excite us either to joy or to fear. So now I have a definition; the question is, do I have the courage to risk telling too much and/or sounding like a fool?
I'll have to figure that out somehow.