I envy Debby over at Life's Funny Like That. She recently began college...she has lots of new things to think about.
As for me, I've always been a mostly cerebral type of person. My ex husband was fond of calling me lazy (i.e. the "ex" explanation). For years I swallowed his abuse in this area thinking he was right. Everything I love doing is of a sedentary nature. One day in a moment of clarity, I realized that I may not be very physically active, but mentally my brain was always busy. So, it really bothers me to think that I'm finding so little to interest me. I need stimulation. I need challenges. I need someone who will begin an intellectual conversation with me...since at this point I'm incapable of starting the conversation myself.
Which leads me to the reason for this rant. This morning I decided to look back through my blog drafts to see if there was some post I began that I might be able to finish and post today. Nada. I do have some intriguing beginnings...
On October 14, 2009 I started this post:
Last weekend a girlfriend and I watched one of my Netflix selections, The Tenant of Wildfell Hall, which was adapted from Anne Bronte's novel of the same name. While I enjoyed the movie, the gloomy nature of the piece got me to thinking about those Bronte sisters.
Let it not be imagined,
however, that I consider myself
competent to reform the errors
and abuses of society, but only
that I would fain contribute my
humble quota towards so good an
aim; and if I can gain the
public ear at all, I would rather
whisper a few wholesome truths
therein than much soft nonsense.
-from the Author's Preface
On November 17th, 2008 I started this one titled Samuri:
Compare this to the education of the Samurai, the warriors of Japanese history. A Samurai was expected to be well versed in warfare, both through reading the works of strategists and through the use of weapons. On the other hand, writing poetry, drawing, tea preparation, meditation and flower arranging were also considered essential skills for a warrior. This is difficult for people in European cultures to fathom unless we understand that all of those skills were signs for the ephemeral nature of life, beautiful and then gone. A Samurai was like the cherry blossom; a beautiful object to behold both on the tree and floating to the ground in death; a life to be relished in the moment and released in jubilation.
On January 1, 2009 I wrote:
I did not read a single book which the New York Times designated as the 100 Notable Books of 2008. Not a single notable book.
In my defense, I listened to a lot of books on CD. I actually read more than a few books too. At some point every year I start listing all of them....and I always quit before long. Resulting in me knowing that I read stacks of books, but having no clue what most of them were. Right now, today, I am again resolving to keep a list this year. (nope...still haven't made the list)
Yesterday, I began this one under the title Halcyon Days Gone By:
Sweet-heart necklines, prairie dresses, knee-high socks with mini skirts, mod prints, big eyelashes, board straight hair parted down the middle, bell bottom jeans with patches and embroidered flowers, hip-hugging pants, big belt buckles, puffy sleeves,
If any of these unfinished topics spark a tiny flicker or a flame of thought, a prickle of interest, a synaptic connection...please talk to me about it!