I am sitting here making coffee, and packed some nice VA/Per leaf into the Rossi pipe, and flipped on the furnace (heater) to warm the apartment up a bit, as the breeze has chilled down the apartment to a crisp 70 degrees (needs to be a bit warmer than that when it is 43F outside, I think), and for whatever reason, I started to think about writing, and the critiquing of writing, and the interpretation(s) of writing (be it mine, or anyone else's), and how (with me), my writing (this blog, this journal) is very much so a "take it/leave it" type of document (or series of documentS). Not necessarily a "love it/hate it" type of thing (people can love the writing, hate the writing, or be in an "in-between-zone", or whatever), but in the end the journal is FOR me, but TO you (anyone/everyone reading this). But what I am saying is; this is the type of writing that doesn't go under much scrutiny, it doesn't get edited (other than the fly-by-night editing I do as I am writing the posts, themselves), and it isn't comparable to other (better?) bits of writing in the world that can stand the test of  time. Mostly because I can't (or don't or won't) do that type of writing.

And the reason I have a "'tude" (or, "attitude") about this whole scenario, is because I DO feel a sense of stubbornness or defiance when it comes to writing things for other people, or writing a book and then allowing it (the writing - whatever comes of it) go under some discerning/discriminating type of obstacle course of arbitrary criticism(s). Because who cares what other people think of a thing I wrote? Maybe they LOVE IT or HATE IT, but neither of those things (neither of those opposing types of opinions) will invoke or prevent me from doing this (writing) all the time, anyway.

Essentially, journaling is good, helpful, therapeutic, cathartic, eye-opening, and (almost) spiritual - a brilliant experience everyone is worthy of having. Boiling it down to anything besides that is a digression of it's purpose.

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