It's the third of February . . .

And my tree is still up.

Why? I don't know. Maybe I'll find out by the time I get to the end of this post.

Things tend to come at me at the spur of the moment. I'm not a big "thinker-outer". I like the craziness of spontaneity. Heck, I've gotten some of my best scenes that way. You know, you're just sitting there, staring off into space, not really doing anything, and it hits you like a Mike Tyson rampage. You say "Heck yeah!" and run off to crank out a chapter or maybe even two. Or maybe you don't know what that's like.

So why am I up at 4am? Well, for one reason my little one kicks like a mule, and another one is I think I have an idea. So I'm gonna get right to it as soon as I post this. Really. I am.

I think that's about it. Oh! My tree. Well . . . I could really have it tore apart in approximately ten minutes, but I seem to like it filling up that one corner over there, and it's two flights of stairs to get it where it needs to be. One day I'll do it. Take the initiative and tackle the beast of all trees and make that long trek to its final destination. I'll get it done. Really. I will. Just let me have some coffee first. And a dounut. And maybe some bacon or even . . .

Sorry dudes . . .

I was lost.

But here I am again to give you something to either smile at or make you roll your eyes--heck, maybe even both.

I write by the seat of my pants. I never think things through first. Whatever is flowing onto this page right now is spewing out at a never-ceasing pace. Just happens to be the way I do things and . . . sometimes that "nonthinking it through" can get me into trouble. I take that back. It HAS gotten me into trouble.

Luckily for me, I'm made of rubber. Nah, not really, but that would be cool, no? I'm resilient, and I bounce back. Sometimes I land on my feet smiling, and sometimes I land on my cushion wondering what went wrong. It's all good as I'm at least still on the ground until my mind floats away again.

Off on a tangent-- digressing suddenly from one course of action or thought and turning to another--yep, that's me alright (thank you, dictionary.com). I have lots of ideas coursing through my brain, yet not one has come to a conclusion. That kind of bothers me--my inability to finish something.

So that is my goal. I am going to finish something. I am going to go through the stress, the torture, and the gratification of doing what I have never done before. About time, huh?

Once upon a time . . .

Once upon a time I wanted to be a writer.

Thanks goes out to my sixth grade teacher Mr. B. for that one. Standing up in front of a class of thirty twelve-year-olds reading a short story that I wrote about traveling into space was enough to make me want to run for the little girls room. But I did it, because Mr. B. told me I had to. And everyone loved it.

That was a long time ago, before I'd even decided what to do with my life. At one point I remember wanting to be a pediatrician and then quickly changing my mind to wanting to be a beautician. I've thought about becoming a mechanic, a computer technician, and even a truck driver (which is crazy since I have yet to learn how to parallel park). I think I could have even pulled off being a lumberjack/cheerleader if I had set my mind to it. You're laughing right now, aren't you?

I love writing, not because I want to be famous, not because I want to be wealthy, and definitely not because I want to rub it in the popular girls' faces at our next class reunion (okay, I lied. Maybe that last one). I love being able to be whatever I want in my stories. I can be the timid child yearning for that one chance to shine, the sexy temptress that gets all the guys, or even the ex-marine turned cowboy (and let's not forget a blood thirsty vampire).

In reality, I guess it's my own personal silver screen. And tonight, I'm Juliet.