I started this blog after I read a book about moms who blog. The book related stories about moms who had good jobs and then had kids and either couldn’t or didn’t want to return to their old jobs but still wanted to do something with the talent or new interest they had in whatever it was. The book inspired me to start writing about something I felt passionate about, a subject I could write about everyday and that something was home design.
I already liked taking pictures of houses so this was the perfect forum for me and hopefully, I’ll be able to write something for someone who wants to pay me for my words (hint, hint). Until that day comes, I’m enjoying my freedom and my commitment to my blog and to you, the few, the dedicated, my loyal readers; all 20 of you (on my best day so far).
The book recommended posting everyday and that’s been my goal. Every morning when I wake up, I make a conscious decision to sit down at my desk and post a new blog. This particular entry marks my 24th post, I think, although I started writing more like 40 days ago. I just couldn’t keep up with the daily demands of posting new content and new photographs. My life was hitting a wall and posting is a demanding task and time consuming as well. I didn’t create a blog calendar, like the book recommended. Every entry is random exposition; stream of consciousness blogging within the rubbery confines of design.
What I’m trying to get at is, this morning, instead of tackling this blog, I went to work on the script I’m writing tentatively titled, LOSER. I stayed with it for about four hours or so and then went for a walk with Derby. We headed down to Glen Park. On the way I took a lot of pictures of sidewalk cracks and old leaves and houses. I stopped for a latte at my favorite cafe and now that I’m home again, I feel ready to post this new blog. You see, time is everything.
A complicated construction of our world around which we tie everything.
I started writing, seriously writing in my journal everyday in an attempt to hold on to the time that was always falling through my fingers. If I didn’t record what had happened, then what was the point of it happening and did it even happen at all? I needed to have access to my past if I was to really exist, that was my thinking anyway but I quickly discovered that recording the events of my day is pretty boring to write. My favorite subject was actually how crappy I felt about my relationship with my boyfriend who later became my first husband. When he and I broke up, that’s when the flood gates of my mind really opened up and there wasn’t a spiral bound notebook in the city of San Francisco that was safe from being filled up with all the rant and rage of a woman finding her voice.
Now that I’ve found it and am exercising it to sound as stretchy as I can make it, I discovered today that finding the right time to write is critical and for me, writing this blog first thing in the morning isn’t going to work. I need to work on my script in the morning, take pictures in the afternoon and blog in evening.
Still you design detective,