|photo by Anna Reavis|
Instead of blogging this year, I've chosen to spend my writing time in my personal journal. Most of what I've needed to write this year has been too personal to share publicly. Sometimes I wish we could all have the freedom and the courage to share our deep personal thoughts, like characters do in novels or the long-dead are able to do in posthumously published journals, as I feel certain we could help each other so much in this way, but it's hard for the living to admit to less than perfection, isn't it? I think maybe that's what's behind all these ridiculous "selfies" and "look how fab my life is" Facebook posts. My life on Facebook looked fantastic a few years ago, and I was miserable. My life on Facebook now looks mundane, and I am happy. Go figure. I worry about the up and coming generation who seem to think their social digital profiles reflect some kind of truth about them personally, who don't seem to know how to be healthy and happy without their online connectivity. I feel like maybe it's time for a new digital revolution, a revolution wherein we all admit publically that we are screwed up, all of us, but that we are still fabulous. All of us.
I promise to try to have a book review ready for Sunday. I've missed you all.