(If you want to ask me a question…now is the time.  I’ll answer on Monday)

I’ve been trying to come up with something to say that would actually mean something to you.  I mean, sure, hardeeharhar…we can always come here to laugh. 

If that’s why you’re here, then a quick funny for you: I made tapioca pudding yesterday for my first time ever.  And in my typical recipe fail fashion, missed a step or seven…mostly the one where you are supposed to let the whole mixture of stuff - the milk and eggs and the “tapioca” etc – sit in a pan for a minimum of five minutes before you subject it to any kind of heat.

Yah.  There was no sitting or resting or anything for my tapioca.  Right to the hot pot for you.

This *might* have resulted in an overly obvious consistency of….well…gee.  How, exactly, do you describe tapioca…without really describing tapioca? 

Let’s just say Tim won’t eat it warm.

The end (of the funny)

Ok.  So, I contemplated a post titled “it’s not writer’s block. it’s failure block.”

But then I went on a little adventure with Lexi and Maddie to the dog park near our house…

And I decided not to write that post.

I’ve been really, really inspired lately with pictures.  I take my camera everywhere and I look for unique perspectives on ordinary objects and places everywhere.  It’s like I want to run around the whole world and take pictures.  Of everything.

Related sidebar: I broke my camera over the weekend by dropping it on our hardwood floors AS IT WAS OPENING.  I was overly distraught.  I love my little pink camera. It’s like my tiny, portable best friend.

And then last night, the doorbell rings and I’m all, “Who is at the door?” because I wasn’t expecting anyone.  So, while I’m holding a barking Lexi (we cannot get her to STOP with the barking) and Tim goes to answer the door…and he comes back with a package.

I was like, “Huh?  What is that?”

And Tim was totally nonchalant all, “I don’t know. Open it.”

It came with a gift note.

A brand new little pink camera.

Tim was so proud of himself…said he’d been waiting for it to be delivered all day.  Apparently he ordered it the same day I broke my other one.

(So sweet, right? I know! And he’s all mine)

Anyway, where was I?  Right.  I’ve been getting inspired by my camera….and Colorado.

This inspiration is a great thing.  It’s a wonderful feeling.  But then I remember that my birthday is coming up.  My twenty eighth birthday.

TWENTY. EIGHT.

My high school class is trying to plan a reunion.  A TEN YEAR reunion.

If that doesn’t make a person feel old and unsuccessful, I don’t know what does.

And where am I?  What am I doing?  Seriously. What am I doing? 

It’s like I’m just floating around….aimlessly…purposelessly.  I really, really hate that feeling.  I’ve come to understand that part of me feeling that way is because “who I want to be” isn’t a quick fix.  It is never a quick fix.  It isn’t just going to walk up to me and say, “Hi. I’m success.  And here I am.”  But I feel like I lack direction.  I have all of these ideas…but it isn’t time to start doing “all of these ideas.”  It is time to pick one and just DO IT.

The one I want to really focus on is writing…among other things like learning how to play my guitar and taking lots of pictures…and maybe sign up for a photography class.

But here we go…I don’t know what to write about.  I have ideas…and thoughts…and “plans” but I just can’t seem to PICK SOMETHING AND DO IT.

I frustrate myself.  Daily.

I get so wrapped up in the details it’s like I forget to see the bigger picture.  I forget to see my dream.  I forget to reach for it.  I forget to keep it burning inside of me….to keep me inspired.

And there is so much inside of me…begging to come out!

I’m not one to talk about my feelings…ever.  I try to open up…but then I feel like I’m exposing this really raw piece of me and any kind of “potential” negative that someone might say to me keeps me from speaking.

But I still try.  As hard as it is sometimes. 

I try.

This is why writing is so…it is so much a part of me.  It’s how I communicate…how I really express what I am feeling.

Or sometimes I like to write just to tell a story.

I love being able to craft my words to make you laugh or ponder or relate my experiences, somehow, to your own life.

That is the core of what I strive for…even if only ten people read this…maybe I will make a difference.

In you.