I always say "later."
I always say "when the ducks are in a row," "the stars aligned," and "when the poop is in its proper group."
I always have a reason why I can't, even though there are so many reasons I should.
Even now -- in these moments I'm taking between that thing that's overdue and that other thing I want to start -- it feels good. It feels right. It feels cathartic.
As The Musician loves to quip: "you know you're a writer, right?"
I am. It's what I like to do, and I can't explain why I don't do it.
I'll never get to tell the tales I've been meaning to tell, especially if I don't make any effort to try. My hesitation (as always) comes from a self-imposed set of rules I am loathe to break. I feel it's my obligation -- for your visit to my Internet Living Room -- to be a proper hostess. I want to pour you a drink, offer a homemade snack, and ease your mind into the adventure that is my life. But I don't really have time for company. At best I can meet you at a bar, where we huddle at a table while I rant and you try to keep up.
My life is not where I thought it would be. It's better. I can't exactly tell you why. I definitely have more stresses and less free time. I'm more frustrated and my future is more muddled. I have thrice as many gray hairs as I did last year. At least. Still, I wake up smiling. I swear I can taste excitement in the air. I giggle a lot. I compliment strangers. I cannot be bothered by the small stuff and... things are just great. You guys were there when I was (what my mom calls) snake-belly low, so I'm obligated (by me) to share with you now that I'm not.
I'm inviting you to my Internet bar. And the first round is on me.
