The anniversary is a little over a week away, but who’s counting? Four-year-olds are not known for patience or restraint.
Blogging has been a love/hate relationship. At this point, I don’t hate it enough to quit. On good days everything comes together. Then, come the days, when ideas stay hidden.
When I get too comfortable, format changes come along. Daily Prompts disappeared and returned. Some bloggers I followed, mysteriously disappeared. The latest; can’t re-blog my posts from previous years.
My favorite thing is to write short stories. Fake fairy tales, fake tabloid stories, fake news stories–fictional stories, that could be real.
None of this should come as a surprise. Typical four-year olds, don’t want to go to bed; sometimes don’t want to get out of bed; don’t want to go home when having a good time away from home. Perhaps their worst characteristic–related to the other ones, is–they don’t like to be told, no.
Which could explain the temperamental nature of this blog. Maturity has never gotten in the way. The author has no qualms about offering unsolicited, curmudgeonly advice. Flattery, bribery with incredible edibles–candy, ice cream, cake is tolerated.
If lightning struck twice, with over 500 hits on one post; I would probably faint. Popularity is fleeting and overrated. Success breeds more angst for continued success, and contempt, when success isn’t forthcoming. Blogging late into the evening and I can’t get to sleep.