1. It’s been a while.  Sorry.  I’ve been thinking about you though.  All the time.  Yes, I do feel guilty.  Yes, I’ve thought about what I’d say to you when the inevitable meeting arose.  I’ve thought of every issue I could cover, every idea and feeling I could express.  And the resounding phrase echoing in my head was “I have nothing to say” - which can’t possibly be true, considering I always have something to say, even when I have no reason/evidence/justification/ interest/permission to say it.  And even when I think or even say I have nothing to say, it’s always a lie.  Anyway, sorry.

2. I’m not bitter, but… actually, I am.  A bit.  In the spirit of preparation, I’m squeezing my mind-grapes now so that, in future, I can deliver a blog that doesn’t suck.  But for now, allow me to overindulge/feel free to ignore: my not-so-inner drama queen.  The small measure of wisdom I have tells me that the following counterproductive feelings will pass, and to that end I’m giving myself a deadline for this tantrum.  Also, I’ve been incredibly spoilt and blessed this past year, so it was inevitable that the bubble would burst.  But goddamn it, right now, man, I am bitter.  I feel like, in pretty much every aspect of life, I am back to square one - aka, an invisible hack.  And I’m confused about my hair colour.  Oh, and while I’m ‘here’, I don’t like the number 29.  A stupid indivisible integer for a stupid, impenetrable year.  No, wait, I didn’t mean that!  Come back!  I promise I’ll be creative.  I’ll start with breakfast*…

3. Not-quite-The-Artist’s-Way.  In a spectacular coincidence, right on the date of her Saturn’s Return, I ran into a friend from high school who I hadn’t seen in years – on a bus we both often catch, no less.  In our catch-up convo, she said that she overcame writer’s block and finally embarked on a novel-writing venture by writing three pages of just whatever’s in her head first thing every morning – known as “Morning Pages” in the creativity guidebook The Artist’s Way.  I tried this for three consecutive mornings and it was quite possibly my most hated writing task of all time - even more than essays in uni, more than what-the-hell-do-I-say-here? captions, more than writing Christmas cards to rellies I’m not all that close to.  Mornings are not my creative time – unless you count creating breakfast* – and so I conveniently forgot to do it again after those three days.  Believe it or not, there is a point to my telling you this.  In lieu of writing three pages every day (seriously that’s, like, 1500 words, man) I’m going to attempt to *deep breath* write three points on here every day.  Even if I think I have nothing to say.  Because, as we all know now, that’s a lie.