I love the written word. No, let me rephrase that so you get the point, I LOVE the written word. I *heart* it, I adore it, I long to read what those have written.
I have been known to read aloud a sentence that has grabbed my attention and sparked something inside of me to those who are unsuspecting, and sometimes even go “? (like WHY are you reading that to me aloud, as if)
I do, I just love to read. And, although I’m not quite sure that what I have to say or how I write it might interest most, I like to write anyways.
So, when my daughter started her blog, and I read it, I decided to write one for myself, and perhaps we’d find some fun in it. And boy, have we.
New to reading blogs, I really had no idea what was going on, right here, inside my computer, written for all to see, if you know where to look that is. And reading one interesting blog post , and hopping through their blog roll has allowed me to read how other’s live, and laugh and express themselves, and has provided countless hours of reading pleasure.
I love to read my daughter’s blog for instance, even when I’ve just spoken to her. I get a glimpse of a daughter that I have known and loved, enjoyed for many years, one that is now shared with more people than I care to even comprehend. And I’ve made friends. I’ve met some really good writers, and some writers who express themselves succinctly enough that you feel like you know them, that you’ve connected with them. AND they’re Not Even Talking To YOU. Or you alone, is what I mean. This weekend, one of my favorite writers, was gone from her usual URL. My daughter called me, asking if I knew that she was missing, if I knew what had happened. I was terribly busy at the time, my 5 year old granddaughter was visiting this weekend, I was too busy to log on, and view, but low and behold I did. I found myself fraught with despair, searching for my “friend”, seemingly lost - without closure, without knowing what happened to her. I imagine the worst, or the 2nd worst, and the “what if’s”, and the “maybe so’s” Which one of us offended her, which one of us had used the wrong language, or had she become bored with providing us such entertainment? The next morning, I logged on again, did a Google search using some catch words, OH MY GOD, my husband said with a certain amount of, well, almost disgust, because he simply couldn’t understand, “Isn’t this a little like stalking now?” “Yep”, I said, taking another stab at a search. I gave up.
The point is, I love your words, I love reading your thoughts, I love the exchange that once was long handwritten letters on cute stationary or journal entries in each other’s diaries, or in some cases, short stories by professionally trained word gurus, whose sentence structure swallows me whole. I’m hooked. My laundry isn’t folded, dust has gathered on my dresser. I’ve no clue what I’m wearing to work tomorrow, but I’m blogging anyway.
So, if I’m missing from my blog and I’ve not posted for a week or so, it’s because I’m off enjoying YOURS!