Tuesday, December 21, 2010

Shout it from the Rooftops

This is the first time in a while I have wanted to write. It's shameful. I am shamed. I am a writer, or so I told someone at the mall the other day. I do not define myself by the hobby I enjoy; I do not define myself by the work I wish I were doing. So why, when the question came, "What do you do?" was my answer, with no hesitation or forethought, "I'm a writer." Honestly, I totally blurted it out before I had time to think-- she asked me so fast, and I didn't expect that question. Or that answer. It turned my face hot and my eyes downward.

What, in the world, did my subconscious mean by that Freudian slip?

The world is changing, dramatically. There is good news, such good news my heart nearly bursts at the thought of it. Like for real-- those aren't just words-- when I think about it, my heart gets bigger, then bigger-- each beat pumping it larger and larger, and I fear it (I) cannot take it much longer. Lord, please let what should pass, pass.

At any rate. I want to tell the world about you. The world has a right to know.


  1. I feel the world could use a bit of good news as of late. Perhaps I shouldn't speak for the whole world. I could use a bit of good news as of late.


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