I had never intended for this blog to become a space for getting personal and talking about my life very much. The intention was always to practice writing with the motivation of having an audience, whether real or imaginary. I also never intended to just stop dead with the blogging, but I did.

I have all of these journals from so many points through my life that have four or five pages filled and then nothing. I always felt that if I waited too long, I should just start fresh. Funny, because the journals were just for me, so one blank piece of paper should be as good as the next, right?

Well, time for this blog to just continue.

So I was just thinking about the Life List that I created back at the very beginning of this blog and how much it has changed and how much it has stayed the same. And how as I become older the macro becomes micro, the big picture becomes a series of tiny details, the list becomes a sum of its parts, and each item contains a sublist.

Over the past couple of years I have broken a foot, broken my brain (figuratively, natch), been published, inadvertently started a business, become a football fan, not only roasted a chicken but become adept at said roasting, watched my first house torn down and my dream house built, moved twice, and on and on.

I don’t know where I’m going with this. Ten minutes ago, I was thinking about how I keep wanting to find a mat in my storage locker and try the Comcast yoga station, and somehow my brain translated that into “Perhaps you should blog.” Ah, my brain. A vast enchanting place much like the Fire Swamp in the Princess Bride–draped in ancient branches and vines with sudden unexplained explosions and giant creatures (R.O.U.S.) scattered throughout. But once in a while it produces something I can be proud of. And I suppose it is time to stop shying away and try to foster those moments.

Last week, I was designing an invitation for my grandfather’s 90th birthday party. My grandfather’s life is beyond anything to be described in this blog–a father of 6, grandfather and great-grandfather of more than I feel like counting right now, WWII hero, civic leader, and all around awesome dude–and it was a challenge to find a way to represent him on a 4 by 5 piece of cardstock, so I drew on an old forgotten, somewhat rusty talent and penciled a portrait. And I remembered that I can draw. Then of course, the very same Fire Swamp that spit out this illustration sucked me into the quicksand of guilt–if you can do this, why don’t you do it more often? Why isn’t it your “thing,” this drawing business? And you know why? Drawing is haaaard (said super whiny with lower lip jutted out). You know what else is haaaard? Writing. And most creative endeavors. And I’m damn lazy. So there.

I got lost a little between point A and point B, so I’m going to fish a bit for a conclusion here, but let’s resolve to say I would like to flex my muscles. I will find the damn mat and the On-Demand yoga station and flex my quads and triceps and calves, and I will open a fresh blog window more often and brave the wilds of my mind, explosions, beasts, quicksand and all.


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