A Woman of Words

I’m just gonna train of thought at you.

So every time I find out someone new is going to read this blog of mine right here, I immediately have to look at my posts and remember what I’ve written and see what my writings might look like to someone new to me. I have anxiety, okay? And I just did that a few minutes ago because someone asked for my blog and I gave it to them. This is nerve wracking for me. I reveal everything on here, things I could get in serious trouble for posting. This is my tell-all. My confession booth. My in-process autobiography.

Now, I don’t expect anyone to be really listening. I know mostly people who read this blog, and I know most of you personally (to those mighty few who don’t know me at all and still read this thing–I salute you). But I’m not writing this for adoring crowds. I don’t know if I’ll ever decide to publish it. It’s just peeks into my past, and some peeks into my present. I haven’t talked about my future yet on here, I don’t know if I will. I just want to record, you know? Not speculate. I can be a fiction writer everywhere else. Here? I want to be a historian.

So for those new people here, and my longtime followers to whom I haven’t communicated this yet, that’s what’s going on. I’m just putting little pieces of my life down and explaining why I am the way that I am, product of my experiences, etc. It’s helping me make sense of myself more than anything else. If I can write it, I can try to understand it. This is how I think. I have always primarily been a Woman of Words.


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