What a pleasure it is to be here in Shell’s bloghome – I have known her for eon’s in blogtime. I came across her and her lovely partner in crime tweeting one night. After having previously dismissed Twitterland, they convinced me that you could have real conversations in 140 characters or less. This led to planning for a meet up at our first conference as the newbies we were, and we now make a date to have dinner whenever we are in the same town. One of the highlights of blogging is meeting your blogfriends in real life and then discovering you actually do want to be friends with them in real life.
Let it be said that. That. Is not always the case.
Yes, that is all.
So here I am … I write a little blog called …
and today I realised that it is simply hopeless.
It is indeed true.
I am in fact just too old to blog.
Please do not confuse this with too old to write. I write all of the time.
Sometime just little snippets on receipts in my car. Or on the back of a checkbook, I just remembered that I did that, now which of the five check books that we have in service at this point did I write that on? Is it forgetful and dreamy, or more of an early onset of Alzheimers? I take a notebook wherever I go. Yet for some reason I never take one to bed with me and remain convinced that the stupendous idea that typically comes to me right as I lay my head on the pillow, will in fact be there when I wake up in the morning – and of course it is not. Even tho I try that mind thing I read about once and repeat the idea several times in my head, as tho it will stick into some deep recess of my brain. Apparently it does stick in the deep recess in my brain, but then unfortunately it is too dark back there to find its way back out again. Much the same as when I race into a room, or up the stairs, or out into the garage on a mission, then get to my destination with not the faintest idea why I am there. Sigh.
MR51% bought me an iPad and a stylus to have a shortcut from the notes I write to the computer screen I actually need them in. It scares me a little, so I have schlepped it to a couple of conferences in the hopes that a few uber fabulous bloggy friends will help me … but we seem to get caught up in the partying and the fun and the socialising and so it does not happen … imagine that. Now it would appear that Wiki has taken it over, the fact that she has put a password on it was somewhat of a give away. The fact that I cannot figure out how to get around it, is yet another indication that I am too old for this technical gig.
Talking about my little family, you can read about us here …
And so I will resume simply writing. Quite often the simple ramblings that others may keep to their journals or diaries – but no, I guess I will just continue to put them out here for the world to see however narcissistic that may seem. Truth be told, I have never kept a journal. I have bought new sparkly ones, ones with beautiful wording set to inspire and I have bought ones that look serious, dependable and scream, these are my thoughts take them seriously. They remain empty, unwritten, on shelves unloved, untouched. I have a dear friend who is a fastidious journal writer. She writes books of thoughts and plans and wishes, she always has. She has filled so many over the years, and they are all stored away. I know where they all are, because should anything ever befall her, we have a pact that I will take the many boxes she has stored and destroy them all. Her words are not out there for the world to see, nor will they ever see the light of day. Sad really, she has a way with words, hers is a voice that should be heard, but she doesn’t blog, she doesn’t share. She just bares her heart and soul to her lonely pages.
See this age thing and how quickly I digress from my lack of keeping on track. In two seconds flat I went from my narcissistic outlook to oooh shiny, must go there.
So my point, if there is one, is that I do love to write, share my words. I thank Shell for having me here today and I look forward to getting to know you too. You know, I was terribly jealous that she started blogging without telling a soul so that she could share her honest words here. I always feel as tho I am looking over my shoulder and wondering what people, or friends, or family will think of the words in my little box of my very own making.
btw, I am also jealous of her gorgeous blonde hair and have you seen that girl rock a slipdress?