I had just about given up on blogging after just two entries, because I tried to go on a late night computer fast in order to help me get to sleep on an early and consistent schedule.  My circadian rhythm is not something I ever thought I would have to give much consideration to, until I realized my face looked like the harried face of a 24/7 mother with 26 toddlers instead of the 9/7 teacher who gets to give them back to their parents at the end of the day.

So I am back, after having a great gal pal dinner at the fabulous Italian restaurant in the Financial District where not only did I feed my stomach, but my spirit too, as great gal pals always tend to do for us girls.  My dear friends, Contessa and Gallery Girl, encouraged me to start a blog of my own, for the very reasons I already secretly had:  to keep track of journal entries in a more interesting way and to have something different to do during my down time.  I would also have a reason to buy a new camera, and perhaps be more encouraged to do more or what I’d like because now I’ll have a constant reminder of how I spend my days and nights…  does nothing to write about means a life not really lived?

I didn’t dare tell them over shared panna cotta and pistachio cake that I already played around with two little entries earlier this month.  I was still wrapping my head around the fact that maybe starting my own blog for the fun of it really could be a good idea.  And who knows, it will probably improve my writing ability, and every modern girl needs to have at least some well honed skills, shouldn’t she?  Being able to write isn’t the issue.  It’s having people read what I write that is.  I get nervous.  I get uneasy.  Though my life is open to my loved ones, there is also so much of me that I like to keep to myself.  What goes through my head, my hidden neuroses, and what I am REALLY thinking is private to me.  Yet, it is fighting to come out, seeking for a life on a page.

I can’t believe it.  I emailed them both tonight to thank them for the great dinner, and to let them know about my precarious new project.  Though, with the support of good friends, isn’t it really the trying, and reaching that matters?

Photo by bp.  Just a few of my old journals that weren't camera shy.