Some of you may remember when I lamented that I felt lost when writing this blog. It often feels that every other blogger has a clear purpose, even a genre that they cling to, while I was over here writing this way and that without direction. I didn’t really want to give myself direction, I had purpose and I so wanted that to be enough.
And it is.
But it isn’t, so I have figured out a cheat. I have a genre. That’s right: personal narrative. The beauty of it? IT CAN REALLY MEAN ANYTHING. So it is like I have direction, without having any at all. At no point is this genre limiting, stifling, suffocating. No sir. It means that I get to keep plugging away at what I am doing, but I get to feel better about it–less lost.
It is like the time that I figured out a way to trick myself into eating more salad. If I packed my lunch for work, I used to pack a salad in my Tupperware and bring along a box of soup. That way I had to eat the salad before I could use the bowl to heat up my soup. Not that I don’t love salads, but sometimes they just take energy to eat. I would imagine that if someone told me salad’s were cancerous, I would eat them like hotcakes.
There’s an idea.
Quick, someone show me a fabricated new article linking spinach to throat cancer. Just don’t make it obviously fabricated. Throw in a few statistics–the scarier the better.