Once upon a time, my internet presence was confined to the page I coded myself. There were no blogs. It was my online journal.
There was no facebook or twitter where I could easily just scatter my thoughts and memories any time like I do now.
Phones were not smart.
But I wrote more often and I did it because I liked having that piece of my life as a record. For me. For people to connect with.
I used to not only read other online journals but comment a lot more. And not to win a free mixer.
It’s never too late to be what you might have been. – George Eliot
When I was a young girl, I wanted to write. I wrote stories. I wrote plays. I wrote bad poetry.
My favorite classes in school were the ones that involved writing.
My day to day job now may not involve any exciting form of writing. But there’s writing nonetheless.
Words. Oh, how I love words.
Who knows, I might still be a novelist some day.
But I will always be a writer. And these are my pages.
My birthday month is May. And the gift I’m giving myself is to be what I might have been.
Join me if you will, and leave me your link.