I believe I have observed before, the trouble with these “easy on myself” posts such as Lame Post Friday and Middle-aged Musings Monday (why, yes, that is today) is that I still have to write them.
I enjoy this blogging hobby, I really do. It is not burdensome to sit on my break at work and write a blog post. In fact, I did that today. Only I didn’t finish it. It is about the cheesy movie I may have alluded to yesterday (why, yes, that was Wrist to Forehead Sunday, another “easy on myself” day).
I put “easy on myself” in quotes, because quite often I find that it is not easy. The really annoying thing is, it’s not much good either. I mean, if something is difficult and not much fun, shouldn’t there be some reward? You know, like if I eat carrot sticks instead of french fries, I could lose weight (anybody out there saying in an annoying tone of voice, “I LIKE carrot sticks,” you can have mine). If I go to work, I will get a paycheck (and anybody out there who LOVES their job, I bet you don’t love it ALL the time). If I must make an effort to write, it will be good (given that “good” is a subjective term) (sorry, had to put in another parenthetical comment to be symmetrical).
I find, not so much.
Sometimes the posts I grunt out one word at a time read exactly as if I grunted. Them. Out. One. Word. At. A. Time. (and if you think it’s not annoying to type like that, try it). On the other hand, this is not a hard and fast rule. Sometimes I am glad I took the effort. Sometimes some of the things that roll off my pen in a delightful haze of I-love-to-write are… not so delightful as I thought they were.
It sounds as if I am gearing up to some half-baked philosophy about there are no guarantees. Or maybe I can only do the best I can do. Or better luck next time.
Save the half-baked philosophy for Lame Post Friday. For today, my Middle-aged Musing is: it is not always easy to write. But I sure love to do it.
Mohawk Valley Girl 