Editing, Miel, Editing

I don't currently plan to do anything 'professional' with my blab-o-mania. I like to blab, I despise human contact (except for those times my 'needs' must be filled--which is fairly frequently, luckily for my marriage), I do not want anyone else to tell me what to do, I type fast. It seems that I truly should seek a career as a blabber. (Especially when I read books like How Proust Can Change Your Life. But that's another story.)

However, this would require a kind of skill I lack. Perhaps several kinds of skills. I'm not sure what they are or how to get them so channeling my wild blabbing, going to some kind of graduate school or whatever those paid blabbers do, actually doing work--that is all out.

It's a bit sad, I suppose. Even so, even as I blab in obscurity it occurs to me that I need editing. Desperately.

You may ask: Why, Miel, why? No one reads this thing!

It's the principle. Also, I didn't write in here for months and then I re-read what I wrote and said: Sheesh! Don't you edit? (I also don't remember writing any of these things but that is another story.)

And then--after hanging my head in shame at my own chastisement--I proceeded to commit the same sins against terse and clear language that I did before.

Like all my realizations and resolutions, this is bound to go nowhere. But I enjoy upbraiding myself at times. Makes me feel like I'm in charge here.