Let’s catch up – ketchup, ha.
Two years since my last writing and even now I’m forcing my pen to paper. I used to dispense of all my emotions as they happened, and now I just carry them to the attic to be looked back on someday with the distorted reality that memories bring. So let’s try to fix that.
My dad died.
My grandma died.
My son was born.
My dog died.
I earned a promotion.
We bought our second home.
I’m out of shape now, always fighting it. Still skinny, but not the stud I used to be.
I’m still a progressive, still a curious, humanist atheist.
Still love fashion. Fell in love with design.
I love anyone and anything that inspires me.
I’m obsessed with grammar. I wrote the previous sentence incorrectly.
Music is still my life force. I don’t think that will ever change.
I hate selfishness and long for selflessness.
I’m filled with equal amounts of hope and fear for our future.
I drink too much. I ________ too much. I don’t care enough to stop.
I’m happy. Really, no joke.
My wife is amazing. My son is unreal. My career is successful and still young. I have found much I was never looking for.
And I’m not close to being finished.