Part of the problem with publicly publishing spiritual and emotional writings is that it’s easy for me to get a bit paranoid. I don’t know WHO is reading this, really…total strangers, friends, family, folks who I sort of know cause they’re on my Facebook or Twitter, etc. etc. It’s a little weird.
I make myself quite vulnerable in this blog, and it’s intentional. A writer should write to their strengths, and mine happens to be introspection. I could probably write about something less personal with a broader appeal and a far smaller risk of humiliating myself behind my own back, but then I wouldn’t be writing what I do best. I have other blogs where I try and be more general and public. There’s links to those up at the top. This one, though, is where I write whatever is on my mind at the moment. It’s not really meant to be informational, but if it is, I’m glad.
I say all that to say…if you find yourself reading this blog, please don’t hesitate to leave a comment. I’m in the process of setting up an e-mail for the blog(my usual one is my government name @ popular email client.com. Can’t be putting that out on the random webs…) Meanwhile, don’t be scared to comment. If I can put my heart and soul out here in pixels, you can too. Doesn’t mean that either of us SHOULD, but hey. Nothing ventured, nothing gained.
In other news, I’m actually going on a proper holiday AGAIN this year. I went on two last year, and now I’m taking a month to wander around Eastern Europe this year. At this rate, I’ll either vision myself into caviar brunch, a rich husband, a big house and many fat children–or I’ll spend myself into destitution. Guess which one I’m rooting for? I’ll never be accused of letting negative reality get in the way of my goals, if nothing else.
In any case, because this is the sort of freeform wanderers paradise trip that I never even *dreamed* I’d be able to do, it brought the following song to mind…
Peace and good night, y’all. Travel safely in your dreams.
I feel really ill. It’s raining. There was dirt on the shower floor this morning, and white paint(?) all over the back of the bathroom door. One of my housemates had some sort of porridge for breakfast this morning that involved most of our pots, bowls, and countertops, and very little washing up. (I hate porridge!) The radio is playing the same Pussycat Dolls song again. Some random Scottish guy is killing sea eagles. Meanwhile, some random Pakistani guy keeps feeding the pigeons on this street and they’re responding to his generosity by ungratefully splattering every square inch of the sidewalk with creamy white pigeon poo. There’s a spider the size of a terrier posted at the front door like some sort of bug bouncer. There are goofy commercialistic Christmas decorations up everywhere in town already. And did I mention it’s raining, and I’m ill?