Why write: Brainstorming Session 1

Here I rest ready to relax and pour out my mind onto this entry. As I begin I notice there are so many different avenues to explore – I can write about what a day I had, and all the adventures of planning a comic-con, or I could ponder about word choice, how I deliberated over using four different words instead of entry in the first sentence, words such as blog post, or medium, or… I think you get the point. I wonder why I write as I am just getting back into it, or inspired as I can imagine. Why? It’s just I feel this is a good medium to convey my thoughts, but I wonder at the prudence of simply outpouring thought upon thought. Shouldn’t I try to create a story of some sort? It will be my task to explore all of these things passionately and perhaps one day I will be as well spoken and delightful as the psychologist I saw present today.

The presenter wore a beautiful dress, rife with beautiful light sabers, those deadly weapons, neatly… well, the dress was lovely (a smattering of applause). I wonder if she will come back and I know I’ll listen to her podcasts. She treasures exploring the psychology of Batman and it was charming to watch her display her expertise. I do wonder at how fierce she would be in a comic – she just exudes confidence. tHAT WAS BUT A PART OF MY DAY, AND SHE WAS LOVELY.

I realize that i ACCIDDENTLY CAPITALIZED ALL OF THAT AND i THINK IT IS HILARIOUS. At the end of the day, I wonder where all of this will lead me. I’m typing with my eyes closed and it’s very informal and off the cuff, but I see that my train of thoughts deviates here and there, unlike the hogwarts train which is straight from the platform to hogwarts.

There was so much as I just whimpered, realizing there is so much to discuss. It’s like rain, each droplet beauty and some that you don’t want, but the whole storm is a wonderful experience. I thought about a new employee where I work and how I explain thing after thing, realizing there is no end, but I do it in joy. There are thoughts of new adventures, such as a trip to the fabled ghost town: Calico. It’s a dark, deserted western town rife with ghosts that probably spook most people, but I don’t find them scary. They’re just lost, lonely spirits.

Rereading that, I cherish the last bit about lonely ghosts and know that my imagination, or impressions, or feelings are all things that I admire. I might have to boil it all down and really cherish a few moments each night because a lot happens. It will be my gratitude practice. I know its a worthwhile endeavor.




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