Get up. Do this. Keep going.

I am currently sitting on the couch next to Dan, watching a Counting Crows Live special, while Rowan is running around playing with his newest obsession: Bonkazonks. It wasn’t the nostalgic 90’s melodies Adam Duritz has been filling my ears with for the past hour, nor our lack of activities, chores, and errands for once that made me want to blog. I woke up and had the itch to do it.

Pause. Is it just me or is Adam Duritz really weird? Not weird because he has crazy hair, and not weird because he’s kind of a loner – but instead, a really, sadly, annoying weird. I mean, have you ever seen this guy perform? I wish I hadn’t now, because I’ve always considered myself a C.C. fan.

Anyway, back to me waking up and wanting to blog. I all of a sudden missed it. Maybe I’ve been missing it, but today I allowed myself to let the itch surface and simmer on the outer edge of my skin and fingertips long enough that I sat down and started updating this old thing. I, of course, spent (read: wasted) hours redesigning my blog, making me feel “fancy” about coming back to the world of blogging. I changed the theme, vamped up the header/colors/sidebar widgets/etc. – see, fancy!

I also spent some time, though a considerably less amount of it, thinking about how I’m actually a really terrible blogger. I don’t write about things that might interest others, I don’t “reblog” really popular gifs, memes, or quotes, and I certainly don’t try to include in my posts images, links, or stories that might draw attention from the internet world. I realized for the millionth time that I don’t care. I’ve never blogged for followers, or to get a forum’s worth of comments. It’s simply just something that I enjoy.

I am a fairly busy gal these days – between being in a serious relationship, being a mom, and my job. But then again, who can’t say that exact same thing? I tend to use it as my excuse for not writing, and then it became my excuse for not reading as often too. And I really need both of those things in my life.

To make a long story short – I am going to attempt to keep a regular blog again. I think that a goal of updating once a week on the weekends is a good place to start. If I have time for more, wonderful. But if not, I will at least have that one time per week to indulge in writing. I’m not here to impress you, so if my posts with cheesy pictures are too much for you, I’m not really sorry. If my collection of intellectual quotes isn’t interesting, still not sorry. And lastly, if my life is too bland, too uneventful, or whatever negative attribute you want to give it… never sorry. What is important is my happiness, and I can gladly end this week’s entry knowing I have that in my life.

This happened…

“Before I die, I want to be somebody’s favorite hiding place, the place they can put everything they know they need to survive, every secret, every solitude, every nervous prayer, and be absolutely certain I will keep it safe. I will keep it safe.” – Andrea Gibson

“The earth is speaking to us, but we can’t hear because of all the racket our senses are making. Sometimes we need to erase them, erase our senses. Then maybe, the earth will touch us. The stars will whisper.” – Jerry Spinelli

“I can never say what I want to say… It’s been like this for a while now. I try to say something, but all I get are the wrong words – the wrong words or the exact opposite words from what I mean. I try to correct myself, and that only makes it worse. I lose track of what I was trying to say to begin with. It’s like I’m split in two and playing tag with myself. One half is chasing the other half around this big, fat post. The other me has the right words, but this me can’t catch her.” – Haruki Murakami

“When I was a girl, my life was music that was always getting louder. Everything moved me. A dog following a stranger. That made me feel so much.” – Jonathan Safran Foer

“What would happen if you did just shut a door and stop speaking? Hour after hour after hour of no words. Would you speak to yourself? Would words just stop being useful? Would you lose language altogether? Or would words mean more, would they start to mean in every direction, all somersault and assault, like a thuggery of fireworks? Would they proliferate, like untended plant life? Would the inside of your head overgrow with every word that has ever come into it, every word that has ever silently taken seed or fallen dormant? Would your own silence make other things noisier? Would all the things you’d ever forgotten, all layered there inside you, come bouldering up and avalanche you?” – Ali Smith