Happy New Year.
How are you?
Me? I'm okay. I miss you. This. I've tried to sit down to write for no less than 5 times this week alone, but find myself unable to take (make?) the time.
Maybe it's because I've got a whole lot of things jumbled and swirling in my head. Maybe I'm a little concerned about what happens when I do get it out. I would imagine, though, the best solution for such a problem would be to, like, actually get it the fuck out of there and then cross that bridge, as they say.
I know this much to be true.
So I went to a meeting tonight and instead of going straight home I'm at Starbucks, getting, at the very least, this out. In hopes that it will cause something resembling a spark.
I read something the other day about living like you only had three months left to live. Like, as a rule of thumb. I envy the people who can live like this. You know, the laid back people.
One of the funniest pieces of feedback I ever received in a performance review, back in the days when I was still working outside of the home, was that I was a laid back. It took all I had not to laugh in my boss' face.
I mean, I can fake it pretty well. And let's be real here, "fake it 'til you make it" is my penultimate mantra. But I am FAR from laid back. Nor am I your textbook Type-A personality, although I have my moments. I definitely have a quiet confidence that things will get things handled (even if it is at the last fucking moment possible).
I believe on a previous occasion or two, I have called myself an over-achiever-perfectionist-slacker (emphasis on the slacker). At first I thought that, reduced down, this was driven by a fear of failing. Even though it manifests as a fear of succeeding. Thinking back to that time I had a bar exam tutor, maybe it's actually a fear of having no more excuses?!
IDFK. This is getting too deep for my atrophied mind.
So there. I've broken the seal. Let's hope there's a flood of words down the pike.
And high fives for sticking with me. Also, apologies.