I have this backlog of stories to tell from the last 6 months. I got fired from what I thought was my dream job (it wasn’t), met my soulmate(s) (I’m an eternal optimist/hopeless romantic. This is a dangerous combination that leads to unfulfilled expectations, heartache, and ice cream consumption.) Then I floundered, threaded water, found dry land, and had some fun. But I haven’t really written about any of it and I think that’s because I know the “why” of most of what happened but I’m not sure I want to talk about it yet. Once it’s written, there’s a record, and if there’s a record doesn’t that mean it’s in the past? And if it’s in the past, well, then isn’t it time to move on? 

So here I am, ready to make a public declaration that I will write more because what else do I have to do? Maybe that was a cop out, okay…

I will write more because I need to write more. No better reason.