I sat down with the new pen and the new notebook and quietly observed a brain dump. It has been so long since I've actually written that I was wondering if I could still call myself a writer. But like visiting an old friend you get to see maybe once a year, I fell back into the reassuring comfort of inking a graph-papered page with my sticky thoughts. Not quite ready to tackle the novel. An impressive amount of monkey mind clutter needs to be gotten out of the way first. So, I set about the task of clearing away unwanted cobwebs (are any cobwebs wanted, really? I mean, other than Charlotte's web and her commendable efforts at trying to save Wilbur, spider webs are just gross. I bounced off of a Wolf Spider's web the other night coming home and...I digress. Monkey mind much?); in a nutshell, I wrote a few pages about compassion and being nicer to myself so that I could be nicer to other people and called it a night. A successful first foray back into the land of words and ink stains.
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