My title refers (sort of) to this book I'm obsessed with: Born to Run. But it also refers to this blog post.
Sometimes I think I'm talking into a void. Also, I think, "why blog?" It seems self-indulgent and narcissistic.
But then my friend posts this: "I prefer blogs that read like a journal where every petty detail of their lives are revealed." But his blog is intellectual and insightful, a mash-up of a personal essay and poetic theory. His blog is not petty.
But his post made me feel like it's okay to just blog whatever, I don't need a theme or an insight I can just say, here's what happened today people.
So, we're nearly done with the patio project, and I will post pictures, eventually. We put some sand on the part that is finished and (thank god!) it hides our imperfections. I wish I could cover myself with sand.
I decided that my experimental, obsessive novel needs to be a mystery with a chronological plot. Back to the drawing board. But I already have an idea for the second novel in this series with my thirty-something female main character. If I can't be literary, at least I can sell out. Maybe. I'll let you know how that goes.
I'm obsessed with the running book and now feel like what I need to do is run more. Right. I'll let you know how that goes. But the book is awesome, and even if you don't like running, it actually has a great plot and the information in it is super fascinating. It's inspiring.