Second Helpings

Observations

I have written so little lately apart from blog entries and a few impulsive free poems. I often miss the days when I belonged to a creative writing class and had a weekly assignment to focus on, though I know I'd never have the time or inclination these days.

I've frequently mentioned writing isn't a want, more a need and a need I sometimes wish I didn't have. I'm careful with my speech and try not to burden people with problems they can't relate to. I wish I could say the same about my friends. I love them to pieces but I don't really want to hear about Aunty Flo's son-in-law who is having trouble with his bunions or Uncle Fred's problems with his dog's motions.

Expressing feelings, experiences and irritations through writing has become a lifetime habit and I'm grateful to have kept this blog going for five years now as a record of events and a place to vent. I love my readers and their comments, but even if no one read my words I'd still keep making entries as a way of storing thoughts.

I do have a new habit however, but no idea why it has evolved. For a long time I have had a drawer full of pristine, empty notebooks bestowed on me by family and friends, waiting for the day inspiration strikes and I find a use for them. Amongst them was a set of books entitled 'Inspiration' 'Memories' and 'Wish Lists' given to me by my sister. I decided to look each day for something inspiring to write in the first, a happy memory to record in the second and use a set of Spiritual Insight cards to randomly record in the wish lists. These usually result in a sarcastic comment underneath the following day but hey, at least I'm trying. Very trying I know.

Later I came across a notebook my Australian friend sent me on the subject of finding my inner Goddess, so each morning I read a page and respond accordingly to the questions.Sarcasm rules here also, but I blame my inner Goddess for that.

Then I decided my hubby's actions, words, ridiculous questioning and bizarre comments needed recording for whatever reason, so set aside another notebook for that purpose. I have no idea why I'm doing this or if there is any purpose to it, but at least it means I'm writing, despite the excruciating pain in my right hand every morning as I sit down to accomplish the task.

Writing, Such a strange occupation and questionable whether it's of any value or not. Do you have any daily writing habits you don't share with anyone or notebooks full of observations you'll probably never use?

Or am I just a headcase? Don't answer that one.