Yes, so as I was saying yesterday - or rather, wittering on rather nonsensically - I figured that part of my lack of writing could be attributed to that of being busy with work. But the thing is, then the holidays dropped down, and suddenly I was relatively 'unbusy' and had a whole bunch of time to let loose and fill these pages with words and words and more words. But did it happen? Nuh uh. Of course not!
So that got me thinking. What the hell is your problem, girl? I dunno. Then comes that other thing: I've been twittering quite a bit in comparison to writing anywhere, and perhaps, just perhaps, that somehow satiated my lowered threshold of needing to write. Sounds sort of pathetic though if you think of it that way: my passion, writing, was brought to its satisfaction through just 140 characters? Shame on you, girl. Shame!
But then again there is just something quite...different....in tweeting that one (read, moi) doesn't really encounter elsewhere. Just as I take pleasure in having a small group of followers here, just like I revel in having just very few, but absolutely amazing, friends, over the mass quantity of mere acquaintances, I also revel in the anonymity I find when tweeting. And that is also kind of weird, when you think about it. I'm all anonymous here; I go by a pseudonym (yes, I must confess, IQ is not my name -- shock shock to those who might have thought it was, ohmagawd. Mucho apology) and do not on Twitter (do not, please, harrass/stalk/threaten/coerce/bully those you believe may possess this knowledge because you do not. If I wanted you to know, I wouldn't go by a pseudonym, genius). But, I still feel more anonymous on a place where my face and name are out in the open, and here I kinda do not.
I guess there is some comfort in being able to just say anything, keep it short, and not feel that obligation that comes with writing more than the requisite 140 chars, of having to write something that would do myself proud. I mean, I tweet the most absurd, random, and often unnecessary things. Oh, yes, I drank tea. It is snowing. Blah di blah di blah. Yeah okay, who cares, right? And that is just it. If I wrote that here, I sound stupid. Lame. And no, it's not just how I seem in front of you, or a matter of being self-conscious or whatever, to blog such mundane inanities just seems lame to me.
So yeah. That's another bit about why I haven't been writing..