I don't know why I never started a blog before. I like journals, I am irresponsible when it comes to keeping one. I write for a week, then the hard sought after book gets neglected under the bed and quickly becomes comforted by the dusk motes and stray pillow feathers. I know there are moods when I wish I had a voice recorder to turn on and simply start spewing whatever rant, soap-box, or tangent has been pent up and forced to implode. I guess today could be that day, but there is no poetry here this morning. I feel no soulful flowing of prose to paint graphic picture for the stumbler on of this random blogger's slightly twisted mind. Here's to an outlet I can use at work, when on my couch at night, when I simply need to get it all out. I find there to be moments when I have a thought that I must get on paper, a song that moves my soul, or an image I can't remove from my thoughts. When I am sitting silent in a field that crawls on for miles and the slight stirring of an invisible breeze lifts its hand for the briefest, barest moment and touches my face as I close my eyes. Yes, this is a moment I must preserve in time for those chaotic minutes the world is moving so fast it dizzies me. And this journal, she doesn't keep score, and she never passes judgement or disappoints. She is simply here to tell my story....
