I just did something very silly.
I wasted all my writing opportunities over the last few days in reading my old blog posts instead. From the beginning.
Interesting in terms of them being a diary of those years, but sad in as much as I learned in harsh black and white just how tedious I am.
I started this blog by accident - just had a primal urge to grunt a comment on someone else's blog one time and had to create a bloggy identity to do so, then felt obliged to spew forth regular bucketfuls of my fetid innards. I eventually stopped due to technical glitches and an even more violent urge to spew my festerings into chapteresque form. Yep - The Book.
Nearly finished it too.
But about a month ago a friend started a blog and I wanted to read it. It was on another digital 'thing' and in order to get to read it I found myself having to create a new bloggy identity on that. I now feel obliged to spew again.
Now, I wondered if I could sculpt a whole new character for myself on that site. I could be all sensitive and nice. Or deep. (Stop laughing.)
Then I had a notion that Madame Smokingun could leave acerbic comments on the nice me's posts. And nice me could leave sweet dappies on MSG's, for her to lacerate. This could be a whole new project. I am smiling. Like I do when I think up stoopid new projects to distract me from finishing something.
It's not that I don't WANT to finish projects - I don't have any umbilical psychological hang ups there - it's just that my brain skips off somewhere else before I know it and I am very easily led. And oops there goes another risk of achievement and satisfaction with myself.
It's probably too technically complicated to keep up this digital multi-personality order. I'll put this snake-eating-its-own-tail idea to the back of my skull for a few months to mature. (Like there's any hope of maturity in my head... )
And get back to The Book.
But I may just pop back in again soon and keep my future nosey self up to date with the gap years. Reel off all our main punctuations of the last few years. And maybe even keep it going again so that when my dementia really gets ripe, I can look at a listy something and think... who's shoes have I just weed in?
It's a plan.