The Beginning

Prince died. Not the dog I wanted to take home yesterday. The singer. There has to be a connection. Is it a message about who I am? Possibly a suggestion? It was an emotional attachment. For a short moment, I would have allowed my heart to be loved by another dog, despite the work.

Prince was the beautiful lap dog, who would match my purse, with her little head sticking out of it. I waited for a man in the parking lot, who had just arrived, to get out, in case he was just late. I hoped he’d come to drop a small dog off at the shelter.  He wasn’t there for what I wanted. I cried on the way home.

Had terrible Oliver here right after. Spent a fair bit of time checking kijiji. It was incredibly slow. There’s gotta be a better way to write that code. You can feel it.

Or perhaps, just by chance, it was simply to get me to sit down here and be honest without putting up all of the filters. Can I say that? Who is my audience? How bout, “Hello, here I am?”

Adele says it best. “Hello, Can you hear me?” But perhaps this is my awakening. To learn to write from the heart instead of from the head.

Heads are great for key points, but the story has to be told in my own words and then distilled down into simple ideas. That’s what I do. That is why I thought I could propel myself into politics and, quite frankly, out of sticky circumstances, which I often do.

I’m still overthinking. I want to just see the word I want to type and not all the bits in between. I shouldn’t be thinking about the keyboard. I know it already. I know what to do. Let the thoughts flow.


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