My husband sent me a link, and it made me think, a lot. It made me wonder about those people who found their niche by blogging and actually became published authors by doing so, in the meantime I just write stuff, that half the time isn't interesting (and no I don't need anybody's sympathy) , it is just a blog like million others more often proving than not my inability to write something that actually has any (not talking about literary) value.
I try to be funny, but I have no humour bones in me, and sarcasm as much as I would like is not one of the services I offer. No matter how many interesting stories I have to tell (and believe me our visit to Berlin, with me almost drunk directing my poor tired husband while holding the plan of berlin upside down, was more than interesting), I stick to the boring shit. I.E. how bad my life is, how pathetic and tired I am and so on. Am I really that thick that I can not write anything of value? I think because this post if so rhethoric it does not require comments, it just will stay here, to remind me, that most of my time is spent being an idiot, and that is why I'm stuck in this place that I would like to call too many words, right now.
My sentences are too long, my writing is anything but constructive, my mind is jumpy, and I make stupid mistakes, even though I teach people everyday about English grammar and the rest. This is not self destructive, or putting oneself down, this is the unworthyness of worthy. I do not make myself worthy the break I so much desire. I do not work hard enough, and I do not get any rewards because I don't deserve them, that makes me quite a nobody, even for myself.
This all makes me want to bang my head against the wall and scream! However, I am very confident, it will not help.
* Image stolen from here.