I began this blog, believing my life would just flow off my 'pen' as it were, such is the culturally rich series of events it is. To be honest, it really is, that is, rich, and I do write a lot, and I am happy in this. I guess the living of it doesn't just naturally flow out into readable stuff, blog-gable stuff. Certainly not with any regularity.
I would journal as a kid, and it was so cathartic, so helpful. Now I chat about this, that, solve the problems of my life and my world on facebook, with my closer friends. I tweet, some days endlessly. Saying everything but nothing to no-one in particular. Just a little steam vent, a "Blaaaaahhhhhh" to the world.
So where is my inner life? The intelligent observations and intense analyses of a woman obsessed with everything that makes life interesting- people, food, culture, history, arts, love, war, death and life?
They are there, in the stratosphere, disjointed and organically shifting shape, like a cloud.
Not here, so much, in this blog.
But I will try to rectify that.
There, a belated New Year's resolution, which I am loath to ever do- but I think, this time I must.
So watch this space.
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