I keep fucking not blogging and then feeling bad about it. AND WHY? Why do I feel bad about not writing? Should I not be writing for fun?

I don't think I should spend the time I am writing bemoaning the fact that I don't write. This is one of the things I CONSTANTLY used to do when I kept a private journal. If you read my journal and extrapolated all of the parts where I apologize (ultimately to myself... well, and as it turned out also to my mother) for not having written, then years of journalling could be abbreviated to just a couple of years.

I was thinking about the journalling thing not that long ago. It used to be a BIG thing with me, big part of who I thought I was, and so forth. Because, I suppose, I used to imagine that I was going to Write. You know, important things that would be read and of course since I was going to be writing these important things that would be read than "the public" would probably want to know Who I Was Back Then.

Yes, I had an overly active imagination.

Apparently, not overly active enough to translate into the actual writing of things. But this fantasy persisted for quite some time. It's only been since my 20's in fact that I realized that I was not going to write anything and more so, that I was pretty okay with not writing thing as the actual writing would have taken time away from more important things. Like watching tv, talking on the phone and thinking about my hair -- VERY important pastimes.

One of the reasons I was thinking about this journalling thing is because of "the list." I have this list of things I came up with that I hadn't done and wanted to do. And I wrote the list 5 years ago and decided to pull it out.

Well, it's really sad because I have not done even one thing on that list. I'm wishing I had not found the list. These aren't even really crazy things, actually. Some of them are pretty basic. Some of them I do not want to do anymore, and some of them I can't believe I wanted to do then. (Which just goes to show you how worthless 5 year plans REALLY are, because 5 years later who knows who the fuck you're going to be and what you're going to want??)

Anyways, for the purposes of sharing... for your examination, but not too much criticism please...

• go sky diving
• go sailing
• go to Europe (my note was to see Paris and Ireland and England and Italy and all of the other countries I'm too ignorant to know anything about)
• go on a whale watch
• visit all 50 state capitols (note: would need to find out what they are, ha ha)
• learn karate
• learn how to make pottery with a wheel (I had probably just seen Ghost)
• fly a kite
• see the Northern lights
• skinny dip somewhere exotic (at least I have since skinny dipped -- or in my case, chunky dunked -- but nowhere exotic)
• have something published (ah ha -- the writer fantasy still at play!)
• learn how to play an instrument (no, Scott, that is not an instrument)
• go water skiing (okay, came close on this one -- got pulled in a tube and that was fun, although not very flattering)
• paint a picture on canvas (good thing I didn't specify that it had to be any good)
• work for a radio station (Why did I want to do this?)
• acquire an enviable cd collection (even then I didn't know why I wanted this according to my note)
• watch someone give birth (really not sure why I wanted to do this -- perhaps I didn't realize that The Baby Story was on TLC)
• refinish a piece of furniture
• fly in a hot air balloon
• learn how to develop film (again, this might be cool, but no overwhelming desire to learn how now)

And that was it.

It's funny the little things we think we want. The things that entice us and attract us and that we think will fulfill and complete us. The bottomless cup you keep on filling again and again.

Sorry, wandered down a blue path. Think I'll follow it to the wine downstairs. G'night!