Monday, June 16, 2008
Okay, so everyone (my family) has convinced me (coerced, really) to try this blogging world. They sold me on the idea that it would be a good writing tool. Well, I've always wanted to be a writer, you see, since I was 10 years old. A "writer" has always brought of images of F. Scott Fitzgerald sitting at his high-backed cherry wood desk, papers strewn around him and writing furiously, hibernating from the world until his masterpiece was complete. Anyone that writes knows how critical it is to get your thoughts out on paper. As I layed in bed last night I began to see the potentials of having a blog. The only difference between me and F. Scott Fitzgerald is my desk is a cheap partical board flat thing with a conglomeration of things strewn about. Let's see, there's my mug, which holds everything from business cards to a very special purple plastic pen with eyes and feathery hair. Let's not ignore the magenta & white personal fan which lies in waiting for one of my hot flashes! And, of course, there's the assorted pieces of paper piled next to that. Arianna (my granddaughter) also lovingly placed one of my stuffed black bear on top of the pile of papers, completing the visual. Yes, I know, I'll be typing on a computer and watching the words on a screen so my hands won't get as sore as ol' F. Scott's. Maybe I won't write a best seller, but if I just leave some type of memories for my family then this blogging thing might work. And, with my magenta & white personal fan, maybe I can pretend I'm on a tropical island somewhere feeling the breeze.