Words for thought.

I just read my first blog ever and giggled slightly.

What was I thinking?

It was crap.

But I suppose I have to write crap to get to where I am today. Where am I though? Am I any more of a skilled writer? Does what I say now have any more weight than what I said then? Do I care?

I was talking to a friend of mine yesterday about what qualifications a freelance writer would need to have in order to make money off of their pieces. I secretly decided that they would need to be a phenomenal writer, but lets face it, you need to have more than just literary skills. Persistence and a college degree in journalism to say the least are the necessary tools for a skilled linguist.

Which basically means I write crap. Unskilled, uneducated, unadulterated crap. But do I care?

Why do I write if I know in ten years no one will read it?

Because I must.

I just must. I must or I'll bust. I must because I lust for words that fill a need.

That. That right there was crap. But I had to. Something inside me said, "Go for it, Super Footwear Girl. Just do it, because it is what you do."

I wonder how many other things I do in my life that are comperable crap but that I just must do?

Do I love as poorly as I write and with as much importance on humanity?

Everytime I say "No thank you" when a cashier asks me if I need a bag, is my conservation of plastic a useless as my words?

Is my speeking as ill used as my writing?

Or do you care? Do you read this every time I make a new post and without an exception leave with something new? A new perspective, a new thought, a new view of me or the world through me?

Do I care? Should I care?

Should it matter to me that when you read it you think "Well thats four and a half minutes of my life I'll never get back?"

Or should I write because this is my life and no one else will put words to it if I don't?