So...lately I've been thinking a lot about writing. My writing to be exact. About my writing on here. I can always locate the times I've felt overwhelmed, I sometimes have found it hard to think...therefore write. Or maybe I'm thinking too much and my brain is just too crowded to let anything out. Everything keeps swimming around in circle eights and curly q's trying to get to the right sector. I don't know. Sometimes after a post that's felt rushed, I would feel something like guilt...or just disappointment in the post of certain parts of the post. I enjoy writing and I want to continue to enjoy writing.
But in the times when my mind does draw an actual void...because it does...I think it's okay just to let the food talk. Because sometimes there was no reason for making what I made. I just felt like making it. Reason may not be the right word. No meaning, maybe? This wasn't a long, long family recipe that I finally tracked down through my master detective skills. I didn't read a book that wouldn't let me get fried alligator balls off the brain until I tried them myself. I'm not starting a strict orange food only diet. No meaning.
