I might have forgotten for a bit. It’s been over 3 months since I’ve posted anything here. Poor Owen must feel so neglected.
I’m not going to make a gazillion excuses for why I haven’t been writing (and, to be clear, it’s not that I just haven’t been posting, I really I haven’t been writing – well, except for work-related stuff, but that doesn’t count here). I’m not even going to make one excuse. I’m not going to make any promises for any kind of regular blogging schedule or writing schedule or whatever schedule either. It was what it was and it will be what it will be.
Such is life.
I miss letting my fingers dance across the keys to form words that spill from my head and not from research and structure and planning and set topics and such. I miss seeing my words in print. Whether they’re meaningful or silly or stupid or weird or intelligent or crazy . . . . . my words written for my purposes shared with the handful of you who enjoy such things.
I want to write poems and flash fiction and political rants and personal essays and family stories and book reviews and complete and utter randomness.
And so perhaps I will . . . .