Just did a bunch of grading. Not done, but closer to the finish line.
Looking. Forward. To. Sleep.
Dibby says "Feed me." He's on the arm of the love seat meowing at seemingly perfectly spaced intervals. He's so smart, that little pumpkin. Now I must lavish kisses upon him. Excuse me.
Oh yeah. And I need to start writing again. Like for real writing. Bailey thoughts. Longer essays. I think I'll feel better if I do--practice what I feel is my calling. Even if I don't feel like I hear loud requests from scores of people right now to do so. I can't make myself published overnight, I can't snap a finger and become a national sensation, but I can write. After all, I don't want to get rusty.
Your last paragraph is right on the mark. Everything you say about writing is how I feel about photography. I read you daily and totally enjoy your musings. Looking forward to essays. :)
ReplyDeleteThanks, lady! :) Let's make a deal--you take photos this summer and I'll write!
ReplyDeleteAnd here are your scores clambering.
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WRITE