A primo reason for writing my blog is selfish. I want to connect with what’s inside where history and reflection and memory occurs. It’s okay that this may hold no interest whatsoever to anyone else; yet over time I have come to know that the blog doesn’t see things that way.
Recently I was too busy, I thought, to indulge in history or reflection or other luxuries of the mind so I didn’t blog for some days but the blog disagreed. The blog insists. The blog exists. The blog sits and waits for you to arrive, looking at its watch.
As a working journalist I understand assignments and deadlines and must-dos but this isn’t like that. I can’t say I understand the pull of the blog but I respect it. I’m in.