In Which I Navel-Gaze a Little

I used to fill journals, scribbling page after page,
like writing down words was a battle to wage.

I didn't mean for that to turn into poetry, but since it does rhyme,

Imma leave it like that.  :)

But it's true, I wrote without saying much of substance, just to be heard, whether it was by Future Me (in my diary) or by my best friend (who lived an hour away in the pre-internet days).  It was a lot of sound and fury fear, if I'm honest, mortifying stuff to remember as the adult I've become.

The only reason I bring my scrawling childhood up now is because, as it turns out, my adulthood has been full of carefully chosen words arranged very specifically.  A college education focused on literature and an introverted nature have combined in maturity to make me a woman who consumes many, many more words than she produces.  To constantly parse language takes energy, even when it's done habitually.  I speak fairly often (gotta get my words out!), but my writing tends to be work-related now -- this or that work email, each picked apart and pieced back together in passive voice to present an impersonal professional package -- so at the end of the day, I'm tired and my words are "gone."

This amateur knitting blog has suffered the ups and downs of my natural energy cycles, but I'm going to *officially* commit to writing more in this space: I have stuff to say!  About knitting!

And also pretty pictures to share.

 

 

Hey, thanks for reading this.  :)