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Five years ago today I started this web log on WordPress. It’s not the first ‘blog’ I’ve ever had, but it is the longest lasting. The others finding some way of disappearing through self-destructing hosting companies or not being bothered to renew the address.

I don’t remember what prompted me to start another blog on WordPress. Five years is a long time and most of the time I can’t remember what I had for dinner last night. And, granted, I didn’t update it all that often, sometimes with gaps of months between blog entries. But I ‘m pretty sure there was at least one update a year.

I spent five years trying to find my niche, searching for what I’m good at, looking for something that I can do well. I still haven’t found it. Not according to my blog stats, anyway. Or comments.

At one time that would have bothered me. Not so much these days, though. I write for myself, not for you, so I can’t expect to get a large following of people. This is a failing on my part, not yours.

One of the things you may hear while you’re in English class or learning to write is: write what you know. And there lies my biggest problem: I don’t know anything. Now, there’s probably going to be a couple of people that take issue with that statement. They’ll say that it’s untrue, that I know a lot of things. That may be true. I know how to cook (for myself), I know how to tie my shoes (imperfectly), and, while I know how to drive, I’m not the type of person to leg it down the highway at ludicrous speeds. And none of that is of much interest to anyone else.

My life is, in fact, dull. Incredibly dull. So amazingly dull it’s a surprise that I’m not in a catatonic state most of the time. If I didn’t have pets to take care of, I think I would be comatose most of the time. I don’t regularly hang out with interesting people, although I have met some interesting people.

I could go on all day with a list of things I don’t do, don’t have, can’t do, and can’t have. That doesn’t seem very interesting to me, either, so I’ll skip all that.  And that leaves me with, well, not a lot. Just some stuff I might make up (or “embellished”), some stuff that is true, and my adventures in weight loss.

I’d ask what people want to see more of, such as fiction or whatever, but I already know how it would turn out: no response. And so, there isn’t much for me to do other than plod along, doing what I’ve been doing for the past five years.