I miss writing. The past 3 days I’ve started writing in the notebook I carry in purse. It has my “to-do” lists, the occasional websites I read about when I go to the bookstore to peruse magazines, and ideas for business or freelance work. I struggle between technology and taking pen to paper. Having a place, if I so desire, to tape photos, theater tickets, or the odd newspaper or magazine clipping into.
Lately I’ve just been struggling with technology–how I see oodles of folks on the train each day playing games, texting, or conducting business on handhelds. I like the train to relax and get some good reading done, usually from a book. A real book bound together with typed pages. The other day I realized when the iconic Michael Jackson died I had found out via Twitter. Thinking about it the other night was a social commentary unto itself.
Sometimes I thoughts I’d like to share, and other times I have thoughts I’d keep to myself. None of my friends really know about the blog so I could be safe revealing what really lies in this kooky brain of mine, I don’t know, maybe I’m old fashioned at age 30. But for myself, I am going to try to write more. I am going to try to do more things creatively that make me happy whether that is writing, crafting, photography, yoga, reading at the park, or Wii tennis. What is making me happy now is that I’m spending a lovely Saturday night by myself, comfortable in air conditioning, not caring whether or not he will call, finding this recipe I’m dying to make for the next bookclub, and that I just pulled a goat cheese and spinach frozen pizza out of the oven.