I’ve been thinking about writing. Not just blogging. But Writing.
Not to say that blogging isn’t writing, or that your not really a writer if you blog. Some of my favorite bloggers are some of the best writers I’ve read. (Although, I’m not really a great critic, I tend to love even some of the worst books, movies and music…)
Anyway, I’ve been thinking about writing my story. My life story. From my earliest memories, like the time I took scissors to my hair while my dad was supposed to be watching me, or the time I flipped myself over in a floaty in my Nina’s pool during the summer, to the hardest moments of my life, when my dad left, when my brother died, boys, friends. No matter what, I want to remember all of these things. I want my future husband to know what my life was like, I want my kids and grandkids and great grandkids to have something that will show what my life was about.
Is that narcissistic? Well, too bad. This is my blog. 🙂
We’ll see. I’m also the WORST procrastinator ever, so I’ll probably never start. 🙂
Bucket list, anyone?