What I want to say is that I miss writing. I was blogging over on a different page and even have years of things stored up over there but it came to a point where it just wasn’t much fun for me, anymore.

I think what happened was that I was going through this phase where I felt like I had spent my whole college and post-college career saying that I wanted to be a writer. And I was working at these jobs that were not in any way satisfying and I heard about all of these bloggers who, like, make legitimate careers out of just blogging and that sounded ideal to me. So then I tried to follow all of the advice and give my blog a focus! Focus! Focus! And the good lord bless people who have a specific topic for their blog but I just couldn’t do it. But I tried. And it got to the point where it just wasn’t that much fun for me at all. So what my blog provided for me was a chronicle of months and months of false starts at a time when I was trying a lot harder to be a specific type of person and completely ignoring my honest self. So, I took a break and did things that I liked to do. I spent time with my friends and started pen-palling with my niece and cooked and went to shows and took up and put down crocheting without documenting every step I took. And that was pretty nice. But then I started really missing the writing part and the thinking part and the honest part.

And I have a job that I really like so I’m not too preoccupied with making a living through my blog (though I do have some rather idyllic fantasies that I’d like to see come true if that ever did, accidentally, come to fruition). And I do have a life for which I am sometimes overwhelmed with awe and gratitude and it is nothing spectacular but it’s worth writing home about–for my own sake.

So, here’s my no-pressure do-over.

XOXO, Lib.