I'm writing again today, after last night's "episode" post, since (a) technically "episode" was a word provided by Matt, and (b) I had another panicky moment last night - why am I doing this at all?
Yes, it's fun, and mind-stretchy, to pluck a sentence and polish it the way I've been doing the last week.
Yes, I can see a clear, long-lasting path whereby I create five sentences a week in near perpetuity, one letter at a time.
But I also have to ask my self "why"?
Electronic communication is no more real -- and in many ways less so -- than other forms, and something as purely computerized as a blog seems even more utterly removed from the reality of my life.
So, there. My first memoir-lite sentence. Electronic communication seems less real.
Why, then, am I doing it after all?
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