once upon a time, before i got so busy that i spent zero seconds doing anything in my apartment other than diving into my bed like it was the Fountain of Youth, i used to be a writer.
or, at least, i fancied myself somewhat of one. recreationally. in my own head. when the spirit moved me. or something like an Indian Summer Day or a Pinkberry sign made me feel spontaneously inspired and glad to be alive.
then i decided i’d start a blog in case anyone else in my little world thought i might have something interesting to say (or happened to stumble upon it and have a few seconds of his/her life to devote to often nonsensical random ramblings and sometimes pretty pictures that make everything better). or maybe i just was looking for an outlet to unleash my utterly girlish side. or because “everyone else who wanted to write” was doing it and goshdarnnit if i let myself be left out.
then i somehow contracted selective amnesia and forgot about certain things in my life that i once held dear, like blogs and frozen yogurt and how amazing an early morning run along the Hudson River feels on a Wednesday, when most of the city is still fast asleep.
i went looking for THIS last night, but my local joint didnt’ have it yet. fail. will stalk until mission completed.
however, THIS certainly started my day off well this morning:
so after some well-needed introspection about what’s missing in my life and a renewed desire to prioritize my time around what i love most, i’m (hopefully) back in action. and hoping to finally get this blog looking more like a well-tended-to child rather than a neglected little ragamuffin.
let’s hope this resolution lasts longer than my love affair with spin class (it was my knee, i swear).