Saturday was great fun, Sunday morning, not so much. Tequila usually doesn’t hit me too hard and I managed to get it out of it without hurling, but dear god my head hurt Sunday morning! But the house warming was a rousing success. I had a great time and think the rest did to, at least I hope so. 

As much fun as it was, there was some small revelations as well. I’ve been pretty reflective and maybe a little overly sentimental since Mom died. I know this and have tried to just let it run its course but I’m starting to think it may be doing more harm then good. This phase of mine is a big reason why I haven’t posted a deep, emotional post here about her death. I don’t know that it’d be good for me right now, seeing as how I’ve been ‘in my head’ for the last 10 months. It’s getting a bit scary in there, I must say. 

What the hell am I talking about? You want a point to that rambly paragraph? Well, aren’t you demanding! 

Saturday, before the tequila took hold, a thought worm that’s been biding its time these past few months, bloomed big and bad. I looked at my friends and family. I saw people who’ve known me forever, people who’ve known me for just a few months. There were people who’ve seen me at my worst; people who’ve cheered my triumphs like their own, people who love me more than I deserve. People I absolutely adore. People I’d bury bodies for without a second thought, people I trust with my life, my heart and my books. I swelled up with love and joy and I felt humbled and special and blessed beyond words. Yay, happy happy awesome, for about thirty seconds. 

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Since I seem to have been posting on Fridays a lot I thought I’d start a new feature, where I post bits and pieces of whatever I’ve been writing lately. Today will be just a few opening paragraphs to a new story, I don’t really know where its going yet. Please let me know what you think via email, Facebook or the comments below. For the record, I’m going to do the fiction in italics, just to keep it seperate.

There are plenty of platitudes, clichés and quips, sewn into conversations and pillows that discuss the inevitability of change and the futility of life plans.
My personal favorite is “life is what happens while you’re making other plans,” or something like that.
As annoying and ubiquitous as these phrases are, they have a large measure of truth to them. Perhaps that is what makes them so damned irritating.
I never once considered the possibility that I would give up football. I mean, I thought about career ending injuries, sure. But it was always about how I could avoid them, never what would happen if, or what I would do afterwards. When the unthinkable happened and I tore the crap out of my shoulder, I was struck dumb for about a day. Lucky for me, someone else had thought about it, when they signed me up for communications as a major in college. I, of course, had no interest in my major. So my sister picked it for me. It turned out that communications suited me, specifically journalism- sports writing.
So I left the field to those with stronger joints and steamed ahead with my degree, dreaming of a respectable writing career. I had learned to live with my first major disappointment in life and believed, with all the surety of a young idiot, that everything would be fine from now on.
What happened next threw me for a loop, to say the least. I watched my second choice for a career disappear and embarked on an entirely new course. Wrong place, wrong time, wrong friends, none of it my choice really, which is why it  still irks me.