I'm back. I really am.

I've missed writing. There is a constant small voice whispering to me to get back to it.  Do I write privately? Back to the blog?  The voices. I should meditate instead with my time. Or add more cardio. Read more. Clean more. Organize! Maybe just stick to Candy Crush.

Two things happened this week that turned up that little voice. The first is that I met a writer that I enjoy. I couldn't even speak. Just held out my book for her to sign. I am such an extrovert but so shy when I meet someone I admire. Seeing her in person and listening to her stories was like visiting an old friend. I didn't want to leave. I wanted to just be in the same room for as much time as I could. I left thinking about her life and choices. How when she's home, we probably live similar lives with our families. What the heck am I doing with my life?

And then today, I opened the online version of the New York Times and read an article. It caught my interest and once I read it, I thought "Hey, I could write an article as good as this one." So, I Googled her name and it brought me to her webpage. And on it, deep in her collection of articles, I found an error. This brought me joy. A real writer had an error on her page. Joy because I beat up on myself so often that I think there is no way I could every write. I screw up all of the time. I am scatterbrained. I only get three minutes of uninterrupted computer time on a real computer, not an iPad. I could write. There is hope for me.

So as I hide for a half an hour a day from my kids, I will write. I need to be here. Or write somewhere. I may not ever get an article in the Times but you will find many errors here. I try to clean it up before I hit publish. But, often times the pitter patter of little feet running into my quiet space is enough incentive I need to get this done and move on with my day. I'll continue to try to add meditation. I am off to workout before the Oscars tonight. And I am sure I will get sucked into a few games of Candy Crush.