I have always been a little different my entire life. Reserved, grounded, wise, intelligent, and overwhelmingly female. I had a favorite tree in my parents back yard, and under it I would sit and write in my notebooks, often for hours at a time. And on many occasions, I would sit under the tree whenever I needed a good cry. And yet, life, as in time, is linear and perpetual, our decisions are based on taking chances. My family spent their lives telling me that I was perpetually making bad decisions and that I would amount to nothing, though one learns, even through bad decisions, and mastery is inevitable given…

Today I was summoned to the far reaches of my mind as I pondered all morning about what I was going to write, as the snow fell gently only to be carried away by a mocking easterly wind. I spent the last few days going through my old notebooks, in a futile attempt to gain solace in a book written pages, filled only with passages of days long ago, snapshots and memories much like a smoldering smoke of a fire that was left to coals. I have lived a life less ordinary, my experiences unique in fact, and yet, perhaps somewhere along the way, I neglected to document many of…

February 4, 2009 Today I’m second-guessing the plans I made in regards to my book. I’m still going to write it, of course even if my approach leads me in a different direction. To write a book one has to open up their heart and soul if they want to make it worth reading. Writing a list-based book of how-to’s has the potential to become a fascinating read, but as “A” told me today, I should try harder simply because I have a lot more potential that should never go to waste. It is better to write a book about a topic that you’re passionate about than to write a…