Journey of a thousand miles
Actually, multiple journeys begin tomorrow.
First, the thirteen-year-old is arriving. There's no way for me to forget this, having been reminded of it at least a dozen times this evening. I remember thirteen, sort of. I was thirteen when I first etched words in a thin spiral notebook which was this blog's earliest predecessor. I discovered I enjoyed it, and continued.
Second. Oh, second. This evening I went to Rite Aid and bought some nicotine patches. This will be the fifth or sixth time, maybe seventh? Hell, there have been so many now I've lost track. But it's time. It really is. I spent half my summer watching someone try to breathe, and the other half watching everyone try to recover after he stopped. And most of the time, the best I could do was just be there. Well, tomorrow I'm going to do something else.
Third. I plan — eh, let's say hope — to post something here tomorrow, at the very least so I can break the Thursday curse, having posted nothing on a Thursday in eight weeks. Seems there's a Friday curse as well which goes back over a ten week period. I can't say there's a good reason for the Thursday curse, but I'll attribute the Friday curse to being tired at the end of the week. Anyway, if I can get something on both Thursday and Friday, that will be four days with entries in a row. Not much of an accomplishment, I suppose, but I tend to obsess about it, having once been more prolific back in the paper days.
Fourth. I plan — eh, let's say hope — to get something else written besides a blog entry. Something that's not related to work, or email, or official correspondence of any sort. A start of something, anyway... it's been a long time. But I've got a story thread that's been chewing at me for months now, elements which keep popping up and getting filed away in my scattered file cabinet of a head. It's time to go see what's collected, blow off the dust, and see if it works. Hey, it's a start. You never get anywhere without that first step. I'll be happy with a few hundred words — again, having once been more prolific. If I'm lucky, it will continue.
So that's the plan, anyway. With the exception of the thirteen-year-old, all these things are entirely up to me — so if they all fall apart, it's all my fault. And that's ok. None of them are world-enders, and I've learned the only way to move forward is one step at a time. Tomorrow, the steps begin.
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On Goodbye, Blossom, Martha said: We can still dress up and go to Laury's. Or Aubrey's. Or even Soho's, if/when I get over being mad.