The first step is admitting the problem

 I have a confession to make – I love to learn – I don’t know what other people do but when I review my Facebook, and my Twitter, pages I am likely to be adding windows to my desktop as I follow new book, articles, and scholarly paper links.  I will have 20 or 25 new windows that will elicit new books to read, Egyptian articles, quotes, or interesting ideas that I am always filing away in my various bookmark files.  And I have so many bookmark files.  We’re talking more than 30 and include things like, Novel Ideas, Writing, Places To Go, Mind/Body/Soul, Shopping, Games, the list goes on.  Now I do go and read the pages, delete some, but, mostly, keep everything. 

I gorge myself on new knowledge.  As I coast into my middle age, I am starting to find that the well, or fount of knowledge to be literarily ‘high brow’, is getting terribly close to overflowing – what to do with all this knowledge, how to dip into the well and enjoy the cool, pure, knowledge that laps gently waiting for me? 

Disclaimer – I can’t say that I have always wanted to be a writer – as a child, I was more likely to play ‘school’ and be the teacher – but I constantly look for ‘the book’ on the shelves of the library, bookstore, and on all the websites I visit.  I seek the book that I have written.  (I love to read and am easily pleased with books – you won’t find me a harsh literary critic despite my degree in English) But I never find ‘the book’.  I collect ideas, books that ‘come close’, snippets of information that all seem to be pieces of a puzzle I am trying to solve.  No, I am not going to subject you, Gentle Reader, to a laborious self indulgent blog about my writing… here I want to share my inner journey as I wade through this very confusing world. 


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