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Writing

I get into moods when I just want to write. I’m not even sure what about until I start. When I was a teenager, I read The Corpse Had A Familiar Face by Edna Buchanan. She was a crime reporter for the Miami Herald.

I remember reading her stories when I was growing up in Miami. I wanted to be her. Except for the fact that I was painfully shy, and an introvert. I never would have made it as a reporter. But I wanted to write.

So I wrote in my journals. I wrote long 4 page letters. When I first got online, I wrote on the AOL message boards for beagles about my adventures in volunteering at the SPCA.

I still write in my journal. I think I’m on my 8th or 9th one now. I call them my trauma chronicles sometimes. In November 2001, I was still reeling from the death of my dad, my uncle, and a woman who was like my grandmother. I was also reeling from the Sept 11 attacks. My niece was a sophomore in college. She got pregnant. I was upset. It actually took writing in my journal to figure out the reason I was so upset was because I was jealous of her. She was the closest thing I had to a daughter, and she was pregnant. I never could be. I literally had to write out the pain.

Writing letters used to be a big thing for me. I would type them out on my computer and print two copies. I have a file of old letters to people. I printed up the posts I made about volunteering. I don’t know why I keep them. No one will probably ever read them. My journals are a mass of emotions. Especially the last 18 months worth of them.

I’ve tried writing short stories. I can think of a million stories in my head, but I can’t get them to come to life. Twitter and blogging are my writing outlets. I have 1,006 Twitter followers as of this morning. I still haven’t figured out how, or why they stay. I guess some people enjoy a good smart ass. I have over 50 people following this blog. Lol, that doesn’t really mean much since people don’t actually click to read the posts.

It doesn’t matter if people read them or not. The point is I get to write, and say what I need to say. Maybe something I have to say will help someone, or make someone think. Maybe it will make someone laugh. Either way, it’s all good.

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