On My Honor, I Will Try

After taking a lengthy beat in my tempo, I'm back in front of the computer again. It's been years. I feel like John Waters' mustache: bare and unclear as to what I'm doing here.

It's crazy how the keys clacking away under my fingers are like a familiar, messy tsunami of creativity and doubt. Although it has yet to be seen if the relevance of this blog has run it course, I'll give it a go anyway.
Relevancy Schmelevancy.

A lot of my train cars have disconnected and ran off the track over the last few years. I've gone through a divorce and now understand why we call it going through a divorce. Once you're out the other side, it's easy to turn around and look back to see it was much like a tunnel. Or a war. Depending on how it goes.

My daughter is now a 9-year-old energy hoarding little darling. She's a 3rd grader head-over-heels for Amelia Earhart, Dumbo, Taylor Swift and black sweat pants. She chews on her hair so much it looks like I cut a big random chunk of it right in the front. I didn't. She plays Roblox on her phone, makes Tik Tok videos, posts to her own Instagram account, and complains about hating Base Camp in the mornings. We stay up having long talks about the future. We sing Home On The Range together with our best, loud cowgirl voices when there is no one around. Even though she's this mind blowing version of a tiny teenager, we're still very much in love. She turned me into an instant feminist.

I'm back in my house having taken a year and a half leave of absence following my divorce. Now that it's just me driving this crazy train, I'm sure I'll have plenty of projects to somehow turn this house into my own.
I've come to the conclusion that I just need to do something. It doesn't have to be at a level ten. As long as I'm moving, even at a level one, I'm better than I am staying at a zero. Being at a zero is like a personal stale mate.
so.
This is my one.