Random rambles from a rambly rambler.

In seventh grade, Mrs. K gave us an assignment. We had five minutes where we weren't allowed to stop writing.

Write solidly for five minutes. If it entered your head, it must be put to paper.

Most of the kids wrote about not knowing what to write. Which I've found is a very popular topic for MySpace and Facebook profiles. "Um, yeah, I hate these things. So, anyway, here it goes..."

So tonight, I've decided that I'm just going to write for five minutes and at the end, I'm going to stop.

My fingers will never quit typing (although if there is a dreadful typo, I will backspace to save myself the pain). But if I get two sentences further and then notice it (which I won't be able to cause I can't stop typing) then I'm SOL. And if I notice it when I go back and read this blog por la manana, then too bad. My mistake will be there for the world to see.

So I'll either write the next great American novel in these five minutes, write total crap or get carpul tunnels. How in the hell do you spell that? I'd look it up on dictionary dot com, but I can't because stopping equals cheating and cheating equals lying and I'm not going to lie tonight.

Blogs are a funny thing. They're (mostly) diaries that you allow the world to read. Diaries with the hopes of validation. "Will someone comment on my blog today?" If so, life is candy and rainbows. If not, the writing was terrible, the thoughts vapid and you feel like the only kid not dancing at the winter ball.

The really crappy part is finding a topic that you really want to write about and you realize that you can't. Because you have no idea who's reading this thing. It could be a coworker, an ex, some random dude from Florida ... Gotta be careful.

The whole purpose of starting this blog thing was to make me write. Writing is my one true love and I've been neglecting it. We have a tendency to neglect the things we hold dear. Pitty, really. Perhaps it's because our loves will forgive us.

Five minutes is up.