A couple of months ago, a friend invited me to join a writing group, so I said "yes!"
I've been completely unable to write anything since my last college paper (last December) but that didn't stop me. Still, I have, to date, submitted nothing to said group...I have a ton of excuses, but none really work. I just haven't wanted to write anything lately.
Until this week. Suddenly, I want to write...but not necessarily poetry and fiction. And I want to leave my other old blogs behind (piecesofnote-too sad, too much the old me...myspace-losing interest, only log on occasionally and nobody reads the blogs there anyway...rawgasm-sick and tired of all the crap surrounding the "raw foods movement" and sick of labels, will post about it later).
So, here I am, and this time I won't write for a month and then stop. Someday soon, I will add photos (long story as to why I won't do that yet) and hopefully people will actually read this.
And the title? Well, I took a cliche phrase and turned it into something a little different...after all, I got the urge to write again while watching my husband slice tomatoes, which he loves...but which really smell and taste just like wet dirt.
And, the word "dirt" is a funny word, indeed.
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