This post is my tenth. It must be significant in some way. The last four times I posted something, WordPress informed me that my next milestone was post number ten. Will I get a prize, some recognition, a trophy? How about money? Probably not. Still, ten posts IS significant on a blog that, quite frankly, seemed dying or dead just a few days ago.
I couldn’t finish anything I started writing. I tried. I compared my writing with the work of other writers on WordPress. I read great stuff. I wanted to write great stuff. I tried. I so desperately tried to write great stuff that all I managed to write was stuff. Stuff I wouldn’t even want to read. But hey, I did try. Then I quit.
Watching TV seemed like a whole lot more attractive an offer. It was easier.
But I got up this morning and felt cheated. I wasted an entire weekend with just a few half-assed attempts at writing something. No, writing isn’t easy for me; is it for anyone? No, I don’t have even a tiny fraction of the talent I think I do, nor the skills. But I cheated myself. I pissed away precious time out of my life staring at a television, precious time that would have been better spent working with these marvelous things we call words.
So this is my tenth post. If I do get a prize, it should be the booby prize—for being the boob in front of the tube. But hey, I tried.