I should probably explain why I'm taking up valuable (??) web-space to unload my penny-value thoughts.
I want to be a novelist. In fact, I'm nearly done my first novel. I've been nearly done my first novel for almost a year. I cannot seem to bring myself to finish it. Perhaps I'm trying to prolong the process, perhaps I'm scared that when it's done it will have to be read, which in my mind equals judged. Perhaps I don't think it's any good and I'm trying to avoid wasting any more time on it. Perhaps I'm flighty.
I'm not sure, but it's probably a mix of all of those.
So here I am, at my husband's computer, listening to MarioKart for Wii, watching my 3 week old daughter nap soundly on the nursing pillow on my lap.
I think blogging might be fun, in a sort of reverse-voyeristic-diary of meaninglessness way.