I have been accused of over thinking. This is not news. So, I think I am over thinking this whole blog thing. Strangely I don't mind the idea of anyone being able to read it, but I become very upset when people I do know read it....especially since I don't actually think I can write that well. It begs the question, who should read it and why am I writing it? I am foggy on both answers.

I write for several reasons. One, it feels therapeutic (I know I could keep a paper diary, but I think I am not patient enough for the fine motor skill of writing. However, I do think I am going to try to revive the art of letter writing.) Two, I have a lot of thoughts and memories especially that I wish to express. And three, it saves my poor husband from being unloaded upon when he walks in the door after work. But I think I think the very act of blogging (n my case anyway) is completely narcissistic.

I have had two incidents where the blog got passed along, and I wasn't sure whether I wanted it to. Which is ridiculous 'cause it's out there....on the world wide web....for any Tom, Dick or Harriett to see. The people I know who read it (or pretend to) know all my warts, my endless, rambling thoughts, and my over-use of parenthesis. The strangers I don't care about. For example, when I was at University I was in a play (Steel Magnolias...a future blog since it was a hoot and a holler), and it ran for 4 nights. Two of those nights, I knew no one in the audience, and that was exactly how I liked it. The two nights where either my room mates were there or my family came, I was ready to have a heart attack on stage. I don't know what that says about me?

Maybe I should just make the blog into a memoir. Then, I wouldn't feel so chintzy about writing about myself. Who knows?