W is for Written

Tonight I decided to make a promise to myself, and it took some deciding, and not just jumping in, because I have been shape shifting these past few years, and making promises now takes deciding and compromising and a lot of thoughtful quietness in my ever churning mind. I decided to promise to do a few things. The first being, write more. See, here's the thing, I have been journaling, and writing short stories and poetry and letters, screenplays (in school, mostly, some before, some after) and just plain writing my entire life. Recently, I have stepped away from that. I don't know if I was burnt out after I graduated, or if I just didn't have anything to write about. Either way, I disconnected, said a silent goodbye, or more like see you later, and maybe I took more photos, rode my bike, fell in love, painted, crocheted, sewed, baked (lots of that) and made a lot of mistakes, instead. I also learned a lot and now, more recently, I have been drawn back to the pen. Journaling, writing letters, and of course, this blog.

I have a lot to say, and I'm not scared anymore. I'm not scared of a grade. Grade me, please, give me an F and I'll say thanks and keep penning. I have no interest in censoring my thoughts, I am not trying to impress anyone. I have an incredible partner who listens and reads me, I have incredible friends who aren't concerned with what I scribble down to myself. I have met some really awesome people through blogging and starting our shop online. I am not concerned with what anyone thinks anymore. Is this growing up, or what? I don't know. I can't answer that, but I do know, I missed writing. Sometimes I go back, to the little journals I have kept over the past 5 years and I like to find the bits and pieces. I found a little, barley legible note I wrote to myself after I met the love of my life. It was the smallest of fortunes, the truest of words and I cherish it. I wish that I would have not deleted my old old old live journals from years and years ago (what, 12 years ago now...) because it would have been fun to go back and read them. Once in a moment of clarity, I trashed a bunch of journals full of fake truths. I don't regret it.

So here I find myself, at 8 in the morning. It's pouring rain and the dogs are restless. I'm thinking about promises.

I promise to make a 5 year plan. I'm too smart and over qualified to be making White Russians and strawberry milkshakes for very much longer.

I promise to save more money and pay our bills on time and not let the stresses of being this broke overwhelm me.

I promise to write more. I promise.

A little something that makes me happy to end with.

(I don't remember where this came from, sorry)

xo,

Bec