D'oh!

I was trying to make sure I had a post here at least once a month and here, by 7 minutes, I have let that goal slip.  Wherpsidoos.

I suppose I have had quite a bit to post about in my life, but nothing I actually want to put down in writing; if that makes sense.

I have seen funny movies and shows and crappy movies and shows.  My cats have done funny things and gross things and cute things.  My family has been alternately nutso (in a funny quirky way) and sweet and thoughtful. My travels have been exciting and complicated and eye opening...lots to write about, no desire to write about it.

Instead, I have been, for some reason, waiting for the "perfect" idea or story to come along for me to riff about.  Every so often, I will mark down physically or mentally a particularly intriguing thought or commentary I want to do, and then on further reflection, decide it's actually just sort of lame to write about something like that.

Like, my stories.  My stories always sound great in my head or while I am first writing them...but then I think on them weeks or months or years later and I see them as these weirdo little page-long blasts out of nowhere.  Like....no context, poor writing skills, not enough detail, not enough understanding of character or scenary.  I feel like they are just these clumsy attempts to capture a single mote and blow it out to a full-length description or, conversely; a grand idea that I try to concentrate in a tiny, flimsy story line....neither of these leaves me satisfied.  Perhaps if I blew out the mote to a book length thing filled with all that detail and observation.  Or, perhaps if I filled in all those empty shelves of a plotted story, plumping it up and giving it heft. hm.  But I seem only able to do one or the other.  Oh, and taken out of context because at the time I write them down, my mind is filled with those stories or vignettes for days or weeks before I put them down for real in writing (or did as with past journal entries). 

Yo.  I haven't much changed though.  I think in every diary or blog or journal or what-have-you I have ever had, I have this same complaint about myself.  It's not all that deep to rehash the same issue over and over in different venues.

bleh, enough of this soul-searching!

It still smells like turkey in our house, and for that, I am thankful.  Kitties are sleeping and it looks to be a funnish weekend. up and up.

I want some cookies (thank god I have pie).