I just had lunch with a friend who expressed an interest in writing as a career after college. I told her to start blogging because it's a pretty easy to start and relatively free from criticism. I think I made it sound like the proverbial walk in the park. I failed to mention how difficult it can be to maintain at times.
After leaving her I realized that I have been far too lazy with my own writing. I've just spent too many days not knowing what to write. Feeling tired and depressed and trapped in a vacuum waiting to go home to Florence. Telling myself that no ones reads this shit anyway. I can't carry a thought through to the end, much less a logical and lucid one. And finding the words to convey it to the real world? Forget about it.
It could be physical I suppose. Not enough wine and olive oil. Too much happy hour. Not enough sun. Not enough snow. Not enough sleep because I'm afraid that a Japanese beetle or a winter-lethargic fly will fall into my mouth as I sleep in my childhood bedroom which is really just glorified storage space now. Too much coffee, because Minnesota is awash in coffee. It's rude to say no. Did I already say not enough wine?
So I think the best way for me to combat this inertia is to write something, anything. And here it is. It's not brilliant. You'll learn nothing new about me, unless you only recently started reading this. If you're new here now you know that I can be lazy and have fine tuned procrastination into an art form. Sometimes I swear but not anything too shocking. And also that I probably have nothing of real consequence to say.
But I'm not going to let that stop me. I'll say nothing for as long as you'll read it. In fact, it doesn't even matter if you read it. I just need to get some of the weirdness out of my head and onto (virtual) paper where it can't harm me anymore. So look out folks, here I come again.