Lying in bed this morning, having woken up at 7am, I wondered why the need to write so much? I've never been a journaler (old attempts always failed after a few entries and when looking back at those entries it's embarrassing the scope of my concerns--boys).
I am alone in this city, alone in this new job. It's unusual for me. For my entire life, I have been in the company of my supporters, my loved ones, my circle, or at least some small part of it. I know people in this city--have plans (a date? unclear) tonight--but no one to share the details of life with. The ex is thankfully (and finally finally finally for me and all others who care about me) off the radar (though ironically, or maybe not so, soon in this city).
In the past year, it was a lot of rush rush rush, noise noise noise. Then the past few weeks were a mix of excitement and anxiety. And now the calm as it begins.
There's a lot of stuff to work out, to work on, to push forward with, and I need somewhere to share the details of my life--notice and record. As it has always been for me--it is better when shared, and as we get older, friends and families play those roles to a lessening degree and mostly based on proximity (at least for the little details). The age old question: if a tree falls in the forest and no one's around, will anyone hear it? I create my own ears here.
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