Would you believe that to a certain extent, I had forgotten all about my blog? Wait, let me clarify… I hadn’t TOTALLY forgotten it… just mostly. Why, you might ask. How could I forget about my very own blog? What could I possibly be doing that would be more interesting than writing about myself?
Ooo I sound so self-centered.
Ah, well.
Anyway, enough about that, more about me.
*snicker*
Yeah, yeah, I’m being obnoxious. This actually stems more from avoiding admitting that really, I haven’t been doing a whole lot, and thus have no excuses as to why I’d kinda sorta forgot about my blog. Avoiding admitting that really, aside from my family and what I do here, I… have no life.
I mean, I have interests… I like to read. And scrapbook. And bake. I like to sleep. And watch shows that I’ve DVRed or requested via Netflix. I like to shop, and I like to waste countless hours online. And I have a pretty productive farm on Farmville… but aside from all of that… yeah. No life.
And weirdly, I don’t really mind. I spent a lot of my life doing things I didn’t want to do out of duty and obligation and sometimes, a weird sense of “because I’m supposed to”. And then I would feel super guilty and immature for wanting to spend three hours gaming on the XBox or curling up on the couch and reading a book in a day. I mean, grown-up type people aren’t supposed to want to do those things, right? We’re supposed to be productive members of society, and volunteer and eat healthy and watch documentaries and read important, informative stuff. And maybe for some people that’s, like, really cool and fun for them. But for me, meh. Not so much.
I figure that as long as I get my housework done, so that it doesn’t look to awfulbad here, then I can wile the day away reading a novel that is little more than book candy. Or watch three hours of a show that I’ve DVRed. Or whatever.
The only thing is, it doesn’t make for very good blogging.
Hm.
I feel the same way sometimes. Growing up I was always taught that one must be productive. My hobbies (reading and writing poetry and such) weren't considered 'real' hobbies. My sister had hobbies like sewing her own clothes and redecorating rooms in the house. I always felt like I was lazy if I just wanted to read and write all day long. Now, not so much. As long as my house is clean enough to be sanitary I am happy that it is messy enough to be fun.
ReplyDeleteWhoa, wait. We have the same life! Except I have a toddler...and diapers to change. And you're done with that part. Hmmm...I wanna come over there and sit on the couch for countless hours with you. Sound good?
ReplyDelete