I don’t know why, but I keep wanting to blog. As I wrote yesterday, it was a pretty awful weekend – I cant’t go into detail, but it was the most terrible thing to happen to me in a long time, particularly because it hurt Lyn so much. Yet, despite this, the urge to blog – to write down my thoughts and publish them online – was still there. I don’t know what’s wrong with me; it should have been the last thing on my mind. Yet, for some reason, sometimes I just wanted to write. I didn’t have that ability over the weekend. of course, many writers have described the compulsion to write: some even claim it’s a physical urge, or that they become ill if they can’t write for whatever reason. For me, I think, it’s a form of therapy – an outlet for my thoughts and emotions. It’s like an analysts couch. I know I don’t write much, and my entries are usually rather short and crappy, but blogging is something I feel I must do. It is as if I must tell the world what is in my head or it gets too full and explodes. Either that or I’m a drama queen craving attention. It’s as odd as it is annoying.