I wrote this post about a week ago, when I was still kicking this idea around in my mind. Heck, I’m still not sure about it.
I am thinking of starting a blog. Thinking seems to be all I do, because I’m scared to pull the trigger in case the thing turns into a pit of narcissism and monotony. No one wants to read my diary. Not even me. And yet, I write so little now that I’m a liar when I call myself a writer. Can’t remember the last time I wrote anything, let alone something worth reading.
But we’re in the middle of this recession/depression/whateveritis and I think I’m going to want to tell stories some day about how we lived through it. It’s not like, Dorthea Lange portrait-worthy, but it seems more and more that the world is crumbling down and skies are falling and yet, in many ways I’m happier, we’re happier than ever.