I am currently reading The Mother Tongue by Bill Bryson. I have read it a number of times before… Bill Bryson is such an excellent writer. This time around, the book seems to have rekindled my love of words (I had hardly noticed my interest had waned). It is almost enough to make me continue my education and get a real degree. Almost.
I think returning to school frightens me a little. Not the actual school part… that seems now that it would be easy, but I will have to figure out what I would want to do afterwards. I want to write, but question my talent lately. It all seems very difficult sometimes. Don’t get me wrong, I am not upset about any of this. I am just being realistic about it. I am on the verge of 28 and have done nothing professionally with my writing. That can be considered quite old to get started.
I think it is good for me to question myself and ponder these things. It will make be a better person in the end, regardless of were it takes me. Writing, as one of the few passions I have, should be where I turn to when I need to release part of my soul. Too often, however, it seems that it just isn’t enough to get me to do anything about my life. We’ll see.
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