So many reasons, so little time.
Been too busy tryin' to survive in the big bad scary jungle of being a single mom/fiancee/outside sales rep/sister/relief society counselor/ puppy wrangler and not necessarily in that order. Of course I'm failing miserably in most of those areas and only mildly succeeding in the others. Not so fun.
Too many reasons and too little time.
But if I have to be honest I have to admit to another reason for not writing.
Serious blog envy.
Truly, I have a bad case of it. Does everyone who blogs have to be so dang funny? So clever? So beautiful? Have such perfect prozac-free lives?
Okay, and if they do indeedy happen to be on prozac, must they write about it so wittily, so breezily, so self-deprecatingly charming that I am tempted to rush out and talk my pill pusher into a year's supply just so I can be as interesting as them?
I wanted this blog to be a reflection of me and the family. You know, record little moments that I think are worth saving since I've never been great at keeping a journal. I always comforted myself with a piece of information that I picked up in a church article somewhere, sometime. A woman was having a brain operation and when the surgeon touched a certain part of her brain, hundreds of vivid memories flashed through her mind so perfectly it was as if they had just happened. The writer marveled at the brain's power and the capacity it has to record precious, and not so precious memories. Heavenly Father made a perfect video camera in our heads.
Cool, I thought. No need for a journal.
But I have the itch to write. Always have, always will.
I feel the need to wrestle with my thought and ideas, both great and small. I feel the need to capture the moments of the time I have with the kiddos. And with Kim. And the rest of my sweet crazy familia. And even nutty Nika.
So I am just gonna write. And write. And write.
Maybe I'll feel better about time passing so fast if I can capture some things on "paper." Maybe the restlessness I often feel will be soothed somewhat if I get it can Just. Get. It. Out. Maybe I'll get to know myself a bit better. Maybe I'll get to know others around me more through written observations. I'm always writing little vignettes in my head so maybe I can string them together once and for all and finish my book. Maybe I'll make it really and truly happen.
Maybe is just chock full of possibilities, isn't it?