There’s a longer, ranty-er post waiting in the wings. Started it last weekend, got distracted by … mm, don’t recall. Dinner maybe. There’s another post half started in my journal (yes, a real pen and paper journal!), but I haven’t yet figured out how to continue it. Because it concerns a topic I don’t give much thought which I should because in a way, it is about me. It’s about my (perhaps insane, perhaps naive) world view. It’s about how that world view colors my writing, and how that works for writers in general. Because, yes, even if you don’t think you’re thinking about things like that, you are. And it shows in your writing. Whether you want it to or not, whether you intend it to or not. And it’s a big, big thing to write directly about because it starts on one issue, and then you learn there’s so, so much more to it. It’s containable, sure. But that means it’s out of context, which is what happens to anything when you isolate it. This blog? This is out of context because the posts are isolated smatterings of my thought process and more precisely of my thought process about writing. But how much more would there be to it if it were written in context? If readers knew who I was outside this blog. If I told you about my family life, my every day work life, what I had for dinner yesterday and what I did this afternoon that I hadn’t done in quite some time. But I’m not going to do that. I’m interested in what people think about the things I leave blank with only these words as context for me. Because, in case you hadn’t noticed, I’m interested in perspective, context, things like that. Like if I say green, what color comes to mind? Lime? Tree leaves? Traffic lights? A lover’s eyes? Broccoli? Okay, this post didn’t have a point when I started, and it’s got even less of one now, I think. Warming up the fingers and the brain to go back to Rosetta Stone here in a minute. It’s actually sort of difficult to write anything with a sinus headache that won’t go away.