Is it over yet?

Boy, I'm glad this month is almost over. I don't know if it's because I've been busy at work, but I have grown to hate writing my blog. I never feel I have anything to say. When I do have something to say, it never comes out the way it is in my head. It's like work now, and I dread it and either push it off for awhile, or get it over with fast.

It's weird, because when I was a kid I wanted to be a writer. I think this is because of Richie Cunningham. "Happy Days" is where I learned the word journalist, and Richie was my favorite, so naturally I wanted to be like him. I never really pursued it though. In school when I would have to write papers, I would always do it at the last minute, and I almost always got a good grade. Now it's voluntary and I feel like I suck at it. I know I just need practice, but I just don't want to do that.

After my grandfather passed away, I was talking with Sarah about writing something about him. That same day, I looked at my horoscope in the newspaper, which said something to the effect that I had a great idea for a book and should get to work. It's almost 20 years later and all I have to show for that is a melodramatic first chapter that I wrote here in my blog. I loved my grandfather very much, and I'm the kind of person that feels like I would be disappointing him if I didn't finish the book. But I just don't know if I can do it.

I like to read a lot, and this time of year I don't normally get to do too much of it, but this year I have. Maybe I'll just stick to that.