when it comes to hobbies, i am extremely non-committal.
(when it comes to relationships, i have quite the opposite problem. but that's another story completely.)
for some, talent runs abundantly through their veins and because of this, hobbies are easily established. a few people i know can sing, play an instrument, paint, write, build furniture, grow gardens, play an impressive game of any sport, and be incredibly good looking (which isn't really a talent, i guess, but still counts against them in my mind). these are the few people i resent a little bit.
i resent them just a little bit (sometimes a lot a bit), because my list of natural talent is much MUCH less exhaustive and impressive. but one thing my sweet mommy always tells me is this: "but laura! you are a great writer."
"great" is such a mom-term to use for my writing that just is really untrue in the real world but perfectly just in the mom world.
i do love to write though. and writing as a hobby has been something to which i could never truly commit. but i've decided something recently. i've decided that maybe i shouldn't think of it as a hobby, because if i do, i clearly will never really do it for more than a week or two; but that instead, i will admit to myself that i just straight up NEED to write. i get lazy and leave 3/4 of beautiful journals completely empty. i get lazy and let ideas just disappear. on my one trip to europe, i got lazy and wrote nothing about the second half of my time in italy and the entirety of my time in slovenia. i already know that at my ripe old age of 23 my memory is terrible, so i just MUST write.
i need to write to keep myself sane.
to clear my mind and release my hyper-analyzation.
to utilize my way too many years of education.
to keep a record of the best years of my life (which will hopefully be all of them).
to not have to talk so fuhreaking much.
ya know?
okay, let's do this.
