A Post A Day

A few years ago, I spent Lent writing a blog called A Thing A Day, where I gave away at least one thing daily in an attempt to simplify, and in turn prioritize, my life.  I was 25, and at the time, I was living in a house that I wasn't really keen on, with women I never really bonded with, in a neighborhood where people kept to themselves.  The house also didn't have heat, a fact which alone would've left me unhappy, but coupled with all of the other isolating factors, I was pretty miserable.  On top of all of that, I was going out with a string of men who weren't for me, and I wanted to but could not completely let go of the guy that I dated in college.  So though I didn't recognize it at the time, I really needed those 40 days to reexamine where I was at and what was important, and I looked forward to each afternoon when I could think back on where I came from and who I was.

This past year, in an attempt to yet again make sense of life complications, I tried another blog.  It started as posts about online dating, but it morphed into an unfocused and undisciplined string of pieces on God only knows what.  Worst of all, I spent a lot of the time trying to seem honest but hiding things I was too embarrassed to share, with others or with myself.  I won't share that link with you.  I'm not terribly proud of it.

This month, a friend of mine, Denise Hopkins, is doing a Painting a Day, and she challenged others to pick up some sort of daily creative outlet for the month as well.  I have always been a writer in some capacity.  I have plenty of talents, but writing has always been my best mode of expression.  Since my best writing has always centered around objects or experiences, things tangible and/or present, I hope to spend this month sharing with you day by day little moments in the life of an almost 29-year-old woman.  I do not know where that will lead us.  I will not claim any specific theme or focus.  I do not promise not to get on soapbox at some point, and I do not promise to be publicly honest about all facets of my life, either.  I will probably talk about how happy I am and then secretly go weep in my bed because I'll be 30 in 475 days and I thought I'd have at least two boyfriends and one kid by now.  But I promise that I will write at least one sentence every day, and I promise that at least one of those sentences will resemble something akin to humor.  You are in no way obligated, but I invite you to read along as September unfolds.  Please let me know what you think.  I love detailed compliments, but I will accept hate mail as well.

To-day I can only gather [this afternoon]

And put it into my lunch-box,

For I have time for nothing

But the endeavour to balance myself

Upon a broken world.

-Amy Lowell, "September, 1918"