Am I required to create as intense, as delicately crafted, an outpouring of personal emotion as exhibited elsewhere? As much as I admire these people, I know I cannot emulate them. I cannot lay my deepest feelings in verbose eloquence at the feet of random net-wanderers. Am I lacking? And if so, where? In the desire to spend so long constructing my sentences as to turn them into works of art merely as a result of such consideration? In the will to bare my soul of all its fairy-floss strands? In the ability to report on anything interesting that actually happens to me?

Life goes on. I float along. And the band played 'Waltzing Matilda'.