I feel better when I write.
And I don’t mean the type of writing I do for work (though lately, I’ve found that to be highly rewarding as well).
I mean sitting down and just sharing whatever comes out.
Maybe it’s a photo or gratitude list or an issue that I’m wrestling with.
But it is summertime.
The start of the season is always busy.
There are a ton of summer events to cover for work, alongside graduation parties, birthdays and group outings with friends and family.
And yardwork. Oh, how I hate cutting grass.
Also, running in heat and humidity.
Dear God, give me the willingness to start running outdoors. I’ve been lax in my devotion to covering miles of asphalt recently. I am growing cranky and fat(ter).
Which leads me to this – I’m complaining but not really complaining.
If given the choice, I’d always choose to be busy rather than bored.
Boring is dangerous.
It means I have time to think, like really think.
And when I think too much, my mind will manufacture drama to combat the boredom.
That kind of drama is never good.
So, this is me, sitting here and writing this post for no apparent rhyme or reason.
I’m just trying to remind myself to not stop what I tried to start again a few months ago – resurrect this blog.
Because, I need this space to ramble.
I also need to find the time to go swimming soon.
Is living ever really that easy?