2 to go and swimming in solitude

I had a friend tell me once that she thinks that the only reason people read my blog is because of the catchy titles.


Then she clarified that it was the draw to read my blog.  Which makes sense.

People stay that you can’t judge a book by its cover, but I definitely do.  I judge it by the title. If the author has picked something cliché or drenched in alliteration, I usually avoid it.  So, the irony of the situation is in the fact that I’ve got alliteration in my post’s title.  Hey, we all have a little hypocrisy every now and then; I wish it was always in the small things.

In other news, once two more people have clicked on one of my catchy titles and viewed my page, I’ll be at 1,000 views.  Not that it’s really a big deal how many people view it. ( but, hey, it’s kind of exciting)  So, congratulations, to the 1,000 viewer… you probably won’t know who you are.

School starts in a smaller number of days than I’d like, so I decided to start going to bed earlier.  This would have been a smart plan, except I’m used to going to bed around midnight – which maybe isn’t that late, but for me, a girl who needs a solid 8 hours every night in order to be remotely pleasant the next morning, it might as well be 3 am – so I’ve been having difficulty falling asleep these past couple nights.

So, I read a solid 100 pages of my book.  I’ve finished The Help in three days because of this.

there it is, the book that's been my pre-sleep companion these past three nights.

Last night, I was thinking about how being alone in a quiet house (can you tell what was going on as I was thinking this?) is like swimming.  Solitude – like being completely immersed in water, unable to hear what’s going on above you.  You really can’t be caught up in other people’s business… unless you’re a lifeguard. Then I suggest that you make other people’s survival the only thing you think about when you’re underwater.

Isn’t it true though?  The times when I’m all alone in my house, with only the noises of the air-conditioner and whatever other sounds I choose to make to occupy my auditory organs, I’m immersed in my thoughts.  When I’ve got something chewy to cogitate on, this is a good thing.  When I’m brain-dead because of either too much thinking or too much talking, this makes me wish for coffee.

I think I like solitude.  In moderation.  That’s my mantra about practically everything.  As far as preferences go, if it’s anything other than chocolate, pizza, or Jesus, I like it in its time and place… in moderation… in balance.  I’m not a person to enjoy overdoing anything: solitude, company, walking, running, eating (well, maybe I overdo that sometimes…), chatting, texting (goodness, I would throw my phone away if it wasn’t a convenient way to talk on occasion), studying, reading, computering.

Even blogging.  But, I have to say, blogging can take up quite a large amount of my time before I get sick of it.  It may not be exactly a noble pursuit, may not have much of a purpose to anyone other than myself – though I hope it does.  It’s just the fact that it’s writing.  And writing is so multi-faceted: grammar, creativity, vocabulary, personal experience, allusion, humor.  It fits me and my moderating personality.  a little bit of this, a little bit of that.  like baking what-the-heck cookies.

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