Some days, I have nothing to write. Other days I want to write my thoughts or frustrations down somewhere, sometimes I specifically want to blog, but can find nothing to merit a blog post for everyone's eyes to see. That's when I resort to writing nonsense in a Word document journal I started over the winter.
What I write in there is mostly just a stream of conciousness that makes me cringe when I read it later for its drama and lack of purpose, it's such crap. I use this journal because I don't feel particularly good about my writing altogether, or just because I don't want to let everybody into my brain. And although this document rarely ever makes me feel good when I read it, it is good that I have it, if for nothing else, than for it helping me do my own little part in keeping the Internet free of worthless writing.
This brings me to an actual thought, worthy of a blog post, even.
Before blogs, or Twitter, or Facebook, or even the Internet, you could itch to write, you could want to tell the world about your problem, or whatever it is you've got to say, but there was no chance for you to inundate the world with pure crap. Before the Internet made everybody a published writer, the publishing world could keep a lid on the crappy writing that is now circulating like poisonous gas, infecting those who breathe it with horrible ideas that just because you can tell an entertaining story then you must be a Tolstoy or Vidal.
This probably should've just gone in my Word document journal, but everybody is publishing everything nowadays, so I'm just going with the flow, just for today. That's my publishable (in my humble opinion) thought for the day.
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