I’m nearly 40 folks. 4-0. How cool is that, that I got here? When so many don’t. Which is why I don’t see any reason on this planet why I should hide my age. Or feel embarrassed. Hush, I’ve dared to grow older! Don’t tell a soul! Let’s all pretend we’re still 20! How silly. And how unfair.
It’s been a funny thing, not blogging for a while. I didn’t think I’d miss it. Some ex-bloggers I know said that it would take a bit of getting used to, but eventually the desire to share my thoughts with others would wear off. Well, it hasn’t for me. What do non-writers do when they have a thought in their head that simply won’t simmer down? Do you wait patiently for it to go away, like an irritating fly that won’t stop buzzing around? Writing seems a way to lay my fears to rest, or articulate my thoughts more coherently, or simply work through an issue. It feels like a yoga class for my brain. Without this platform, I feel a bit cooped up. Like I’ve been sitting on an airplane in a tiny economy class seat for 10 hours and no one has allowed me to get up and stretch my legs.