I Read Too Much

The hardest thing about having a blog, besides ensuring  you actually write something, is knowing what to write.  There are many different seasons in life, things that seem so important at the time, but end up being just normal everyday stuff.  There are moments that are so insanely funny that you can't wait to share them but don't get to it straight away and then you forget what made them so funny, to begin with.  There are moments that are so bitterly painful that you can't help but want to share the experience in hopes that others know they too can get through it, or more likely the sharing is a part of the therapy. And I wonder, of all these things, which is the most successful?  Which is it that brings in the most readers?  Which is it that becomes the essential part of the author? Oh, how I long to write copious words full of insight, humor, raw emotion, but I lack it.  I lack it all. I feel like a painter with a pallet and canvas, but no paint...

It's been a while.  Oh, I've been here behind this monitor pounding away fervently at this well worn keyboard, but the words I've been bringing to life haven't been the ones meant for you.  I am happy to report I am three weeks away from completing a life-long goal.  I don't know when I last shared it or if I've shared it at all, but my dream, the one I've had since I was a little girl - a little girl who was so full of hope and wonder and belief in dreams and them coming true - is to become a teacher. Sure I've had opportunities over the years to teach and train and grow and inform others, but never as a career. Never in a school.  Never in a way that I've wanted to for as long as I can remember.  We'll start there. I have so many friends that still, at our ages, don't know what they want to be when they "grow" up.  They don't know what kind of work would make their hearts soar, that would bring joy to their hearts. Ar...