Sometimes, you are too busy actually living to write about your life. Sometimes you are not at the computer because you are busy pasting a father's day "installation" to your bedroom wall, which said father will be extremely surprised and smitten with when he gets home from work. Sometimes you're out on your front stoop with a cutting board and a scary knife, cutting up the biggest watermelon you've ever seen. Sometimes you're hiding under the covers with your five year old boy, and you plan to write about it on the blog that night but, alas, there is popcorn to be made and Star Wars movies to watch. Sometimes you sit with your fingers on the keyboard and forget what you were going to write so you instead hop in the car and go buy some red lipstick, which you then try on once you're home and proceed to make sexy (?) faces at yourself in the mirror. Sometimes you realize it's officially summer so you sit outside with six to seven books about Van Gogh and Frida Kahlo and you sort of half-ass read and tan your winter-white legs.
Sometimes--what it is I guess--is that actual life takes precedence.