Friday, May 26, 2006


So, yesterday I was explaining to someone that despite the obvious, I blog all the time.

I blog when I should be working; I blog when I should be sleeping; I blog riding on the train; I blog walking to the station; I blog when quality literature (and no-quality fiction) should be getting my full attention; I blog when perhaps I would be better off watching the 9 episodes of TWW, the 5 episodes of G’sA, the half season of Lost and pretty much the entire series of Alias, I have saved on my hard drive; I blog whilst Mr Williams (& Mr Johnson & Mr Fanning & Mr Freedman) serenades me on shuffle; I blog in the shower. And sometimes, I am ashamed to say, I blog on the loo.

If I was Doctor Seuss, I would blog in rhyme (On a boat. With a goat.) ’til you wanted to throttle me (About the throat!)

But unfortunately, I rarely blog in the spot made specifically for the activity of blogging. So few of my bloggy bits grow up to be actual full-blown, fingers to keyboard, black pixels on white, thoughts made LCDable type blogs

It seems that I am, in the end, little more than a fantasy blogger.

Because, apparently, I do all my best blog work in the privacy of my own head.

I realise that I should do something about that.

But I’m the kind of person where realisation and action are only acquaintances. Very distant acquaintances. And whilst I wish that they were the best of friends (Comrades in arms. Joined at the hip. Siamese style BFFs) I am too old a dog to learn that trick.

Clearly, the story of my lack of cohesive decision making ability, the tin of 72 Derwent pencils and my cluster fetish, and their combined contribution to the current, unblogging me cannot be underestimated.

And should probably be the subject of future blogs.

I think :)


--Antipodean!Julie, Aged Thirtaneen (and then some.)

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