It's been a few weeks since returning home from my trip to New York. Every year, after my foray into the Real World - the one outside of the little one I call my own in the middle of a private forest hiding my home from the drivers by- I tell myself that I'll write my recap today and then it becomes tomorrow ... And then another tomorrow still.
The world doesn't stop spinning while I'm not home; the bills will always continue to appear in the mailbox, the laundry will continue to pile, and the dust and dog hair will continue to take over the floors and the couches and entertainment center and the floors.
Three dogs will do that, you know. Living in the middle of a private forest; dirt driveway - no asphalt in site.
Evevtually, I begin to wonder if it's worth it - worth the time to edit and upload and caption each memory saved in a hasty selfie taken to commemorate the 30 seconds of OMG HOW ARE YOUs and hugs and rushed In Person For This Once Until Next Year, Probablys. I tell myself maybe it's not, but then I do it anyway because I want to remember the Little Things that make up the Big Picture - the Everything of my life.
I'm not a blogger. That's one thing I realize every year while skipping the sessions for bloggers, presented by bloggers, about things good bloggers are good at it, at least, want to be good at. SEO, monetizing, ambassadorships and brand relationships. I'm good at none of these things and never will be and that's okay with me.
I'm not a blogger. I'm a writer with a blog. I'm an Almost Author with an Almost Book with a blog that makes no money that you read for the content only like a book because that's how I write it and never expect the few comments I do receive here.
That's okay, too. Even if I forget that I suck at this thing I started only to Build My Platform like The Agents who Told Me Not Yet Told Me I Must Do, I continue to do it.
I write. I connect. I write and I write well. I blog and I do it spectacularly badly.
This is who I am.