I’m going to write.
That’s the plan.
Everything else should take care of itself.
So I’m sitting with my thoughts the other day and I think to myself, What have I been investing myself in? What have I poured myself into?
The first thing that comes to mind is the Logos magazine, which I worked on the second half of college.
After that, I think of all those classes and essays and teachers.
Words Words Words. Everything has to do with words. I’ve been learning how to write. And there I was, not writing anything. And here I am, writing something.
The first memory my mind ever stored is of me choking on a penny. I’m not fearful really, in this memory. There was a certain level of concern for sure. And the fact that this is my first memory, birthed out of a trauma, seems to indicate that I had an awareness of my own kid mortality. Perhaps this was my first brush with death. Anyway, I ended up throwing up all over the brown rocking chair. I survived.
I figure this is a good place to start. Until next time.