I read many blogs, admire many bloggers. The ones I gravitate towards most often are those who manage daily or nearly daily posts. Such devotion. I write and I blog every day… in my head… as my hands work away at my job. My staff see as I drop everything and jot down a few notes now and then. I assume they presume I’m jotting down reminders or business notes. I wonder what the hushed talk would be if they were to wander through my little notebook.
Diary style is how I thought I could and would blog. Little daily snippets of my regular life scattered with some smouldering stories from my other life, the real one. But it seems I don’t write like that. I can’t force the diary style … can’t deny what comes naturally and what creeps it’s way out of my messy mind. You’d think I’d know that after all these years of knowing me. I write in story form. I journal and remember and reminisce in story form. Lucky (or unlucky) for you, dear reader. I’m sure the stories are far more entertaining but also far more confusing.
But this is what you get. Tales wrapped like balls of ribbon, layer upon layer upon layer. Want the layers unwrapped? Just ask. Take them at face value if you wish. There is some of me in that too.