I last posted a day before my 31st birthday.
I turned 31, and some things have happened since then.
My relationship with Daniel has gone from strength to strength.
I’ve planted a little garden.
Time has slipped past me.
I’ve been responsible, and irresponsible.
I have read a lot (and not so much) for my book club.
I’ve stopped writing.
The last one worries me. I could give you any number of reasons why I haven’t written anything. I’m tired, I’m busy, I’m uninspired, I’m not enjoying it. All of those things are true to a degree, and also untrue to a degree.
I write because there is something inside me that needs release, an idea clawing for freedom. I have had ideas and they are building like a storm. Ideas that go beyond simple blog posts.
I think Doctor Who said it best when he said “But that’s not what you meant, is it?”.
Indeed it is not.