Seriously, I suck at the whole like, you know, following through and not failing thing. Do I even have any readers left? I got depressed looking at my stats because for awhile they were steadily rising and then BAM, crash and burn, and I was all, hey, what happened? And then I realized: I quit posting.
Oh. So here goes!
As the saying goes (or maybe it's not a saying, maybe it's just something I made up and say in my head when I have writer's block), it doesn't have to be good, it only has to be.
I just realized that probably doesn't apply to a blog with an actual sentient audience as neatly as it applies to my stream of consciousness journal writing/rough draft of the novel that will never come to fruition. Hmmm.
This morning I dropped the Princess off at kindergarten and realized I've spent my entire adult life making a science of avoiding school zones at 8 and 3, and now I drive directly into the middle of one every day on purpose. And there is no end in sight. This is now my life.
I never cried on her first day of school. I thought I was doing so well. Then we decided (and this is partially my fault, because I'm lazy and always almost-late for work) that she probably didn't need me to walk her all the way to the door anymore, because she knows the way, and I can just drop her off at the sidewalk (the one RIGHT NEXT TO the kindergarten building) and watch her walk around the corner into the very safe and secure fenced-in kindergarten playground and I'm ok with that, and so is she, because she's a big girl, and most of the other moms aren't walking them in anymore, and what am I, some kind of obsessive helicopter parent? Let go already, mommy.
Then we actually did it. She kissed me goodbye in the car (thank goodness) and told me to have a good day (so cute) and then she just...got out of the car! And shut the door! And walked away! And I sat in my car watching my tiny girl pull on her giant backpack and march confidently into the teeming sea of
Maybe I should just publish some of my stream of consciousness journal writing/rough draft excerpts of the novel that will never come to fruition.