Wanna hear a secret?
I'm not enjoying this NaBloPoMo thing as much as I thought I would. There, I said it.
It's a wonderful exercise, to write something every day, but the point of it is not only to write, but to write something worth reading. And reading back through my November posts, I can see the tone of my voice is a bit shrill and squashed in places. Not so attractive.
I suppose I could just be getting used to the discipline of it, of the writing every day, of trying to present my life in tidy heaps of words, but the contrast of some of my NaBloPo stuff to a well-thought out, few-days-mulled-over post is striking. Where is the humor?
What will I do?
Well, I signed up, and I mean to complete the month. I think I will take a page from Lala and begin paper journaling, sorting out the good, the bad, the disgustingly cutesy, the boring (seriously, two days of narrating that health conference? Someone needs to tell me when I'm boring and pedantic!) and re-writing posts until my inner voice can giggle and agree that what I commit to this blog....well, that it's me.
Because that is the point - to be me. A month of me, not this hurried person.
And I'm kind of looking forward to December.
On another point, Miss R has gotten out of bed and wandered downstairs to cuddle with me and read a book three times. The crib is no barrier now.
After three times of leading her upstairs and putting her to bed, I just sat down on the stairs and waited. First, a thump! then the sound of feet pittering across the floor. The door creaked open slowly.
"Back to bed, Rosemary" I said, trying to sound stern.
'Aaaah!' she squeaked in surprise, slammed the door, and pitter-thumped her way back in the crib.
We'll see if I end up having a visitor tonight in my bed, shall we? Crazy girl.