I know I've said this before, but I love to write. I think I always have. There is something immensely satisfying about writing, be it finishing a paper for a class, working on some writing project, journaling (though I am abysmal at that habit), and had I ever been set lines to write for punishment, I might even have enjoyed that (at least until my hand got tired). I have a dear friend who has told me on several occasions, 'writers write', so I'm writing. Either that makes me a writer, or just means I want to be one. That was what I wanted to be in elementary school when we had to write our career choices: author and illustrator. Honestly, I still harbor some half-fantastic dream of someday being a real author of a real book. As JP on Angels in the Outfield said, 'It could happen'.
Really, I just wanted to write something tonight, and this is it. It snowed yesterday, which by all rights and purposes makes no sense to me. Minnesota is definitely not the worst place one could end up, but there are still times I wonder why anyone thought this was a good place to live. Alas, one could say that about Texas in August, I suppose. I had a good conversation with another friend today about the random ups and downs of life, and the unforeseeable future. I know I, at least, like to make meaning out of just about everything, so when I can't it frustrates me. Things make sense in hindsight...sometimes. I think half the time we don't really know what we're doing, but hopefully we get up and do the best we can. The funny thing is, the people that are good for some are not good for others, but we connect in random ways anyway. So sometimes we have to leave a place so we can get the chance to stretch our wings again and start fresh, because all the learning and growing can sometimes make things crowded. Here's hoping the adventure's a good one.