[insert thought-provoking title here]

For much of my life I’ve felt the urge to write.  High school and college provided ample opportunity for me to do so.  From 2001 to 2007 (roughly) I expressed myself through various avenues on this website.  Since then…  I suppose life got in the way?  Not in a bad sense.  Raising kids and increased responsibilities at work seemingly sopped up all of my writing time, not to mention my mental energies.  The muse was dead, or at least otherwise occupied.

Over the last year or so, though, I’ve felt the urge again.  Like so many other things, though, I needed things to be *perfect* before I could start writing.  A notebook with the proper spacing.  A different laptop.  The perfect, pithy post title.  Greater than 140 characters.  The ideal blog setup.  A sense that I needed to provide a new and unique perspective, or else my opinion was worthless.

I’ve run short of excuses.

So I’ll try again.  This is completely a self-serving exercise; I think I feel better when I write, so that’s why I’m doing it.  No promises about wordcount, frequency, or whether or not I’m actually moving any particular ball forward.  Just a spot to hopefully exercise a part of my brain that’s experienced some atrophy of late.