I don't know why it has become so hard for me to write. I love to talk, I can tweet up a storm, but when I sit down to write on my blog, my brain becomes a blank. I think it's because when I am talking, its to people I know and they respond and the conversation flows. When I am tweeting, its within 140 characters, usually about some political issue, short and sweet. But, when I sit down and open up my blog, I stop...
I stop because I am afraid of what I might say if I just let my fingers flow. Will I write about the ten books I have read since my last post, or how much I worry about my granddaughter? Will I rave about the latest albums I love by The Black Keys and Adele, or will I tell you how disillusioned I am with the Maryland Judicial System and their total lack of continuity in Family Court cases? Should I tell you how angry I am at the GOP for totally messing up this country that I love so much, or do I tell you about the anguish I feel for my son, who has lost so much in these past few days?
The big question is: do I write about the things that exist around me, or the those things that make me who I am?
I haven't figured it out yet, but when I do, I'll let you know.