Ramble, Old Man, Ramble

Only been writing again for the last couple of months, but it feels like a longer time.

I've been blessed (cursed?) with the ability to stop things I loved doing without missing it much.

I used to define myself by how much I could lift off my chest or over my head.

Always a spiritual sort, I prayed to heavy metal listening to heavy metal.

Found God there (and in a Muay Thai gym).

But I don't do it anymore.

Or at least for now I don't.

And I don't miss it (much).

You'd think I would, because it was a really big part of me, a big part of how I defined myself.

And that's how I kind of feel about writing.

I have written my entire life.

Have always loved the written word.

For a long time, I couldn't read or write anymore.

And that sucked. More than the not lifting thing. Which shocks me, writing that truth.

I started listening to stories and watching them.

And that helped, a lot, but it did not replace writing.

And so, all of that to just say, I'm very thankful to be able to type away again. To meander in my brain and pluck what I find and place it down on digital paper.

To ramble again, if no longer to rumble.

Rumbling is a young man's game.

Writing can be an old man's.

Something to look forward to (no old man here).

This might come across as sort of a down thing, but it's not. 

It's the exact opposite.

An up thing.

I'm writing again.

Wrote everyday here since early October.

I'm back, baby!

Or, at least, I am here.

I still get things off my chest, just now in a different form.

Lightweight, easy, easy.

What an interesting timeline.

To the last day of a good year.

Happy.