Hi everyone! I’m a little early for my two-year anniversary of not writing here, but Not-Writing Anniversaries should be celebrated for longer than one exact day.
Two years is a long time. It’s enough time to get a pixie cut and grow it out again. That should be a real measure of time and distance. My husband is rolling his eyes right now like pixie-cut-growout-time isn’t a scientific thing. If it was, NASA might be able to beat the Ruskies to Mars. Is that a real current event or a movie plot? I’ve lost track.
The struggle with my writing voice has been a long one. Sometime in my adult life, a shadow crept over me and stayed. Some parts of me came out and flourished, and other parts stayed tucked away like a forgotten love note.
Every single time someone asks me what I want to do, or where I need to get honest, or let’s talk about Goals Dreams Creativity Pushing Yourself Failure Whathaveyou, I think about how I want to write and should write and then I don’t. Instead I read or watch a movie or fall asleep. Gosh that sounds so lame because it is.
So. I’m back. I have no idea what I’m going to write about, but I know that God gave me a voice and told me to use that voice, so I will. I am. That’s both present tense and future tense.
Since I don’t have much else to say in this post, I’d like to end with a picture of a cow. I just love cows. Their eyes are big and warm, their eyelashes incredibly long, their bodies awkwardly rectangular. I wholeheartedly endorse cows. That is, the front end of cows. The back end is usually pretty disgusting and the poor creatures have no idea who or what they’re pooping on.
Sorry I ended with a preposition. I’m rusty.
The cow picture is titled “Cows” by Anders Gustavson. It’s his work and I didn’t fiddle with it, but I do think it could use a tad more exposure. Just being honest, Anders. He doesn’t know who I am, and I don’t know who he is, other than he must like cows too. But that’s my assumption and not his official position on cows.