I Hart Rawls

I'm having that sinking feeling that I get before an impending all-nighter, when I know that I will waste at least an hour staring at my computer screen, trying to convince myself to select all of the text I just wrote and start over. It isn't good enough, I'll tell myself, and I will stall, paralyzed. I will not move.

Well that sounds a bit dramatic. It probably looks a bit dramatic, too, me all wide-eyed and afraid of my own writing. But, that is the way it is, and I suppose that that's possibly why I find the act of blogging so attractive: it's unthinking, nonjudgmental. I censor myself, naturally, but stylistically I'm unconcerned.

(But then I say something like the above, and I wonder if I'm just slipping that in as a disclaimer.)

I had another point, too, but if this blog is a whipping-boy then I'm afraid I have to invent my point-making energy in another arena and end this here. Tut mir leid.