Last November I participated in a blogfest. It was a collective of people, many of whom I’ve never met blogging every day. I’ll be the first to admit I made it about 22 days before I threw in the towel. I went into it with all these expectations of finding my voice and really growing from it. All I gained was frustrations. I felt like I could never say what I wanted. I was too critical of my writing like it was going to be this great novel. My friend snapped me out of it by reminding me that “it’s just a fucking blog dude. Just write, it won’t get read anyway.” He was right, this will get read by maybe 10 people if I am lucky and I know all 10 of you and you know me on a level deeper than I can write. So what do I have to prove anyway? I am raw unedited and at times pretty damn vulgar. I might bitch and moan one day on here and hell I might even talk about my feelings too! For the month of February it’s going to be the real me. If the vulgarity bothers you, too fucking bad deal with it. I am only out to please myself this month, pun intended.
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