I don’t do New Year’s Resolutions. Never had a reason to, really.
Never smoked cigarettes, so I never had to quit. I’m overweight, but haven’t had the heart attack to scare me skinny. Don’t have a lot of interest to find Mrs. Right because she’ll just change her name to Ms. Wrong so it’s a waste of time anyways.
So come this final week of Twenty-Thirteen I’m not making great plans for The Year Fourteen.
But I do want to write more. It’s been nagging at me for more than last year.
In fact, last Feb. 22, I started this blog as a place where I could spew anything I wish to write about it. It could be an essay, a story, a thought, a photo. Anything.
For the first two months, I posted periodically, but things dropped off. Until this post, it’s been a dormant site for the last eight months.
Today, that changes.
It’s three days before Christmas and I’m giving myself a gift — The Right to Write. Again.
My goal is once a day, though I know I won’t reach that goal. I also want to weigh 180 pounds again, but that’s not happening either.
So I’m just going to write when I write and I’ll know when it’s right. I’m going to post my links on Facebook so that those who want to read my words and know what’s going on in my mind will get the opportunity to follow my madness. And if you don’t care to follow me, then fuck ya – Don’t click the link.
It’s that simple. Don’t like “Duck Dynasty?” Don’t watch it. The show’s not all it’s quacked up to be anyways. (Now utter disgust over such puns is a perfectly acceptable reason not to read my words. That I’ll admit.)
This won’t be just a place for my ramblings, though. I’ll post other things here, too.
Photos. Interesting tidbits I find over the course of the day. Whatever I want — after all it’s my blog.
It starts with this post, but this is just the beginning.
Let’s try this again.