21 November 2018

There's just SO much.

The neighborhood.
Autumn lasted for approximately two weeks. 
There's so much to say, so much to tell. There's a veritable heap of activity to explain and an intense amount to process. It's paralyzing. My brain moves in fits and starts. I start to phone a friend before realizing I don't know where to begin. I have nearly a dozen blog drafts I'm convinced need more context before they can be published. I would like to pull a Hamilton and "write my way out." But I really don't write like I'm running out of time. I barely write at all, aside from poems in an app and random paragraphs of reflection.

And still my thoughts go and go. My life is different. Everything is different. It's good. It's not great. It's better than I expected and simultaneously nothing like I anticipated. Do I start with the why? Do I detail the how? Life marches on while I debate the actual telling of events. The "to share" list gets longer in equal pacing with the occurrences to omit for brevity. There's just so much.

Thanksgiving is tomorrow. I'll be preparing a #ThanksgivingForOne, which is exactly what I wanted. I'm going to think and cook and read and watch all the shows. I hope to write, but I don't know if I will. (That's usually how it goes.) Know that things have happened -- that things are happening. I want to share. And I will. It might take some effort from you, dear reader, to read between the lines, to understand my intent and to accept (or reject) my justifications. I'm on my way to being 40 years old. I'm high on goals and low on apologies. Bist du bereit?