Pandering for attention.
But I wasn’t. And now I feel like it seems as if I was even though I’m one to pay attention to myself, so have never really needed anyone else to, and if that doesn’t convince you I’m a piece of work, nothing will.
I said I was wondering about those things that I was mulling over yesterday when it was grey and chilly out (like about 65 degrees?) and….well, sometimes, that’s enough.
I used to like grey days, so who knew?
I’d not delete my words. There are too many and they count for something. And in the past, when I’ve done that, I’ve regretted it, because part of my life has gone with whatever I’d erased. Even if it was the flowery writing of a teenager, or the wistful thoughts of a young woman.
I’ll never quite remember who I was when I put those words down.
So, no deleting. Just figuring things out, which is something I’m quite familiar with.
Like my new camera. I’m trying to figure that out and I’m thinking I need an adult beverage right now, because the software’s loaded, and well, it’s yet another new thing.
I swear. Just another thing to be thankful for. That my brain works. It’s kind of nice on most days.