Rambling

I never find the time to write, or read for that matter.  Although, I do always have all the time in the world to stay on Facebook and Twitter.  It’s funny how we make time for things that are so unimportant, leaving us little time for the special things in life- the things that really matter.  Over the past couple of months I have questioned whether or not writing was my passion.  After listening to the other writers in my graduate course I felt as though I may not have that exact enthusiasm as the rest of the students did.  Do I like writing?  Sure, if it doesn’t have to be a 15 page paper on the theory of language and culture.  So what kind of writing do I enjoy?  I guess this particular writing.  Writing for myself.  Writing for others to enjoy.  Writing about things I care about.  I always seem to catch myself daydreaming about one day becoming an author like Carrie Bradshaw from Sex in the City.  The stories she writes are about exciting and unpredictable -and most importantly- true life experiences. I'd love to follow in her footsteps but... just not sure if I'm willing to put it all out on the line for everyone to see.