Dreamweaver

In the purist sense of the word, a personal blog should be about anything and everything on the author's mind. (Author is such a loose term in this sense. Ha. I said loose.) I don't know what has come over me lately, though. In the past, my sporadic entries were mostly attributed to a busy schedule ... or lazy disposition. But in the past two months, I can't for the life of me think of anything inspiring or worthy of anyone's attention. Even mine. So if I were to blog in just stream of consciousness form, just for the sake of publishing something, I think I'd lose the few readers I have. I digress.

What I'm trying to say is that I've been thinking about you. Maybe too much and that's why anything of value escapes me. But I'm going to catch it, darnit. If I have to purchase a butterfly net, fishing pole or any other item that does proverbial catching, I'll do it. Even if it's a dream catcher ... and I think those things are ick-tastic on a taste level.

For now, I will tell you that I was thinking on my way to work. (That's rare in and of itself, thanks.) There's one job that I absolutely could not tolerate having. I could never be a tattoo artist. Not just for a lack of talent and immense phobia of needles. But because the responsibility it garners. I all-but-guarantee - nay, I guarantee - that I would be the dummy who misspelled, even though my spelling is typically impeccable, or made a seemingly-innocent illustration one that cultivates many blushing cheeks. (Not the butt kind.)

Yep, that's it.