This is the first “day off” I’ve had in 27 days. A real day off.

Cleaning…

Groceries…

Phone calls…

Copywriting….

Okay, I don’t know doing all that can really constitute a day off.

But, I’ll call it a day off because my cute, toned tush wasn’t married to the unforgiving, gray upholstery of my car.

I was home, it was grounding, it was good.

I felt steady, I felt secure. Needed that.

Twitter….

I’ve been tweeting like crazy, loving the context of only 140 characters.

And I even more love the voyeuristic quality of someone watching my life, or the life I feed to them.

But honestly, twitter isn’t a replacement for writing - blog writing, notebooking (my new term that I’m gonna call blog entries) or journaling.

Tried just tweeting and taking pen to paper, not working for me.

I am a virtual creationist. I like to see my words spring forth and live on screen.

Or be transposed from the quick scrap of nothing I put them on, so they wouldn’t be a passing thought that went as quickly as it came from the ever meandering workings of my subconscious.

Twitter is no substitite for  writing - sorry, “blogging” - so not a verb people - blog writing, journaling or notebooking. You have to actually share and flesh out ideas, concepts and perceptions.  You never know who may be reading you, and if you stop, you may lose them and you don’t know when you might have needed them.