667

I started to read but then stopped. I'll catch up later. Sometimes, I just needed to think about me for a moment.

If asked, I would say I'm not creative but there are times I need to create. In the pre-blog days I would occasionally crack open a cook book or I would be required to use the thousands of dollars worth of tools that are growing old in my basement or I would go to the cabinet that has hundreds of dollars worth of paper stock and things for manipulating paper stock or sometimes I could get my fix by doing yard work by doing something like creating a trimmed hedge.

or I still have things for working leather
or materials for tying knots in cordage in a manner known as macramé (in the third grade the lady teaching macramé was hot and I was bored)
or I have things for working with clay
or Sumi-e

I want to get a welder so for two or three days I could be welding things together and then forget about it.

I'm a little surprised that writing to a blog quells my desire to make something. Maybe it's just the work of typing words and not the words themselves. I still do not see much value in my words. I have been noticing more that there are times when I will craft a sentence, when I'll try to keep the ending somewhat disguised or I'll come right out with the emotion I want in the beginning so what follows will be read in a certain way, or at least so I hope.

I wonder what I would be doing if I wasn't posting.

I think I'm slightly better technically in writing today then I was when I started even though I'm still not comfortable with semi-colons and other aspects of writing properly. I think the way I see words in my mind's eye is a lot closer to how they appear on a printed page; I think my fingers have been trained to translate the thought of my words into the actual typed words.

I type my thoughts a lot like closed captioning, there is not a direct connection between the thoughts in my head and my typing fingers. It's as if someone is dictating the words to me and I type what it sounds like.

I'm just typing to type now. I'm not a great typer (typer is not a word but I think it should be). Online services have made me a better typist.

There are times I feel like I should give writing a try but I still don't have a desire to write in any conventional format. I do kind of want to write something long enough to be called a novel and then get at least one copy published but that's only so I can irritate certain people but saying "Yeah, I wrote a book."

My feelings towards my writing are similar to how I feel about my laundry; it's just something I do, I don't think too much about it. The main difference is that there are times I feel I have to do a laundry; I don't think I ever felt that I had to write, although there have been times I've felt I should post.

I was just rereading this post over and just told myself "Yeah, bored this train." I don't even know what the really means, I just like the setup of it. A boring play on words that almost seems cleaver but actually makes no sense.

But then that's how I see the whole of this blog.

I think pax once asked my about my ridiculousness. I forget the actual question but I think she asked if it was on purpose, mostly it just happens but sometimes I'll craft it. There are times I'll be writing a somewhat serious post and then end it with a ridiculous statement which is me sort of disavowing any serious thoughts.

Regarding the title, not including this sentence there are six hundred sixty-seven words in this post, it's not some post apocalyptic encryption but I thought it was kind of cool that it could have been.