Where is the breeze?

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There is absolutely no breeze here. The night (well, it is actually morning) is still. The wildlife, (insects, really) are chirping and calling to each other. I love this time of morning. This is when I get to wake up and write.

Writing has become an essential part of my week. I would like to say I find time to write every day, however life gets in the way sometimes. I am not completely convinced I have anything important or useful to say, however I am certain I enjoy this new ritual. (Perhaps it is not all that new anymore.)

I go back and read some of the older things I have written, and sometimes I want to rewrite them or update them. I think that may end up being one of my projects. The fun part is trying to think of interesting ways to frame certain thoughts. I do not want this to become a journal. I want it to be an exercise in self-expression and finding my voice.

Writing is the place I can say exactly what I want. I can edit it, and take the time to attempt to get my point across. I get to tell someone what I think without them interrupting and influencing my diatribe. I don’t have to change my opinion based on other’s feedback. This is the one place I don’t have to respond to you. It’s rather selfish, and gloriously self-involved. This is my corner of the world.

I love a good story. An interesting tidbit or juicy detail that illuminates your personality. I grow and learn from your experiences as well as mine. Some people are gifted story tellers. Sometimes it is the colloquialisms they use or the timing they employ to make the punch line zing. Not every story is a joke, but the good ones have a point where one stops and just enjoys the moment.

I am so grateful today. I have been lucky to know so many people who are full of interesting stories. Their adventures keep me curious about the world. I hope I figure out how to write my stories so that others can enjoy them. I am going to keep working on it. Our stories are how we become immortal. Until then, I have to go to work.

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