Write it

It appears that I have gotten my writing mojo back at least a little. I woke up at 5 am today and just had the urge to write. To let it flow. To let it soar on the page.

Then I started thinking about life (which can be bad but this was good), and that there's just so many things I want to do in my fifties. I want to learn to play bass (already tried guitar which I couldn't do). I want to finish my screenplay and write and publish a third book. I want to see my work on a stage in a real theater as a play. I want to act.

Truth is, I want to do it all. I'm always craving something different. Something exciting. Something new. Yet, this life I've created is one I am very content with. 

Does that make sense? My husband and I are lucky. We occasionally bicker and annoy one another, but we love each other as friends and life partners. We both love music. Yes, true, he may not blast it in the car like I do (it kinda drives him crazy how loud I can handle my music while driving) but we're simpatico with the tunes. 

My shih tzu Frodo passed, and the grief still hits me hard, but I try and appreciate my remaining years with his brother Chewbacca.  My space I live in is wonderful. We may downsize in a few years but I love our house and my goal is to make a podcast studio that looks like a real studio and not just podcast in my room of rock tees and rockabilly dresses (most don't fit) that I use a screen to cover. 

I guess what I'm saying is that I'm so very grateful. And I'm working on being even more grateful on a day to day level, saying it aloud rather than always complaining.  

You see, for all of my positivity, often I can get stuck ranting about stuff that irks me. My perfectionist streak can result in me holding others to an impossible level. And what's funny about that is that I'm kind of a mess at times. My podcast area was a disaster until recently and just yesterday, I wore my shirt inside out to court all day. So really, I shouldn't be judging anyone.

So I am just here to remember via this writing exercise to smell the tulips (my favorite flower), to find my miracles and blessings in the ordinary rote routine of life, and to write it all down. Just write it.