Questions

The other day, someone asked me what I was passionate about and for a minute, I was truly stuck. Firstly, is that not a strange question? Secondly, I think I am a geek.
I've recently got into baking.... it calls to my intensely stubborn streak. To walk into my house, you would not think 'ah there lies an organised mind'. You would not proclaim 'goodness, there's a gal who likes a place for everything'. But I do. I was the child who loved the alphabet, who had all her books lined up (not by author but by title). I group my cds in genre, then alphabet. And on my dressing room table there's a clear hierarchy. Oh I know it's not evident, my lists and sorting out but it's the way my head works. For example, my photo albums are grouped. My trinkets are on my shelves in strict order. So baking, yes, it screams to me to want to be perfect, I want to be able to make roses out of the most delicate of icings. I want the admiration of a nicely decorated cupcake. But am I passionate about it? Not quite. I want to be good at it, because my nana's were. I want to excel with the roses because I want to be good at something but it's not quite a passion. I don't wake up and think 'CAKE!' (well I do but not in a 'I'll get down to the kitchen and make it' more like a 'EAT CAKE').
So what do i want to do when I wake up - besides drink myself awake with coffee.
This is. Not this blog per se. But write, that's my passion. That's what occupies my mind, that's the clutter that holds my house together - bits of paper and diaries and lists of plot lines, of dreams, of things I want to do.
And that was my answer. I'm passionate about writing.
Last Saturday I was passionate about tequila, but that's only ever a passing Saturday night kind of passion.