Its' that time again.  The beginning of a new year.  A time to re-assess my reasons for doing what ever I'm choosing to do.  Blogging falls into that category.  I certainly don't do it for money.  I make no money blogging.  I dream of making money writing but not necessarily because of blogging.   Rather I dream of writing pieces that people will read, will want to read, will stir their imaginations.  Hard to do, realizing that I'm not a "creative" writer.  Stories don't float from my head like balloons let loose in the sky.  I'm not all that interested in concocting stories or characters that come to life on pages.  Better people than I do that already and I would hesitate to even stand beside them.  I like conversation.  I adore conversation.  Conversation where two souls meet and find a connection they wouldn't dream of as they pass on the street.  It doesn't have to be serious.  It can be funny, side-splitting hilarity or just gentle chuckling.  A story that brings a tear or a smile.  Sharing a part of yourself in more than a 10 minute bio.  It's a recognition of another human being.  A wonderful warmth, "Oh I know you, I know you."

Sometimes the discussion might be contentious, hopefully never hateful but always a chance to experience what someone else is feeling.  To feel something new, learn something new, grow your roots deeper in the soil around you and bear witness to the lives surrounding you.

I'm sarcastic, sometimes I'm funny.  I can be short and to the point but now, on this day, I'm tired of one liners.  I'm tired of placing my life in a box that is 2" by 2" and expecting people to understand what makes me cry, rant, smile, rave, laugh, weep, sigh and ruminate.  With Facebook,  twitter and email it's really hard to meet people right where they are, at their hearts.  I don't want to be satisfied with that anymore.  Life is too short.

At night, while I wait for sleep to come, after I'm done reading, I have conversations with myself.  Sometimes, I admit, I have conversations in my mind with other people.  They are involved and deep.  They force me to think.  Is this what I really believe?  Why?  Reading often helps me wade through the nonsense of life, the fluff and remind me of the important facets.  I love those moments when I become aware of an idea that has been right before me, begging for attention.  It causes a fundamental shift in how I view the next day and hopefully all the days there after.

I wish I had someone to discuss it with.  I think blogging will do that for me this year.