Origin Story

If I was searching titles of blog posts and found this one, I would expect an epic tale about the beginning of greatness.

I would be thoroughly disappointed.  

This origin story has nothing to do with greatness, in fact, it has more to do with the mundane.  Everyone seems to have a blog.  Most of them seem to have a good reason for having one.  

I don't.  

Well, no reason beyond the basic love that I have to put my thoughts and feelings down in writing.  

I've been "blogging" before "blogging" was a thing.  As a boy, I knew that I had a sensitive heart.  I knew it and I loved it.  Deep down, I loved to feel the things that I felt and I wanted to write about them.  I wrote poetry about the beauty of the backyard of my parent's house and wrote down my muddy thoughts about God and how I felt about the things I was supposed to love and do.  My writing was infrequent, and I worried about what people would think if they ever read it, but I loved putting my heart and mind on paper.  

I still love to write.  For eleven years many of my words were written to be spoken.  Now, simply written for the sake of writing.  I still worry about what people are going to think. I still feel fractured in many of my thoughts, though they feel a little more put together now.

I would still love to write poetry.  

I've started blogging, again, because someone told me that it would be a good exercise. I'm on an unplanned sabbatical and looking for a new job.  My heart is soaring with the possibilities ahead in life, I'm growing more and more nervous as days slip by and no full time work has been secured, and I'm excited about the joy that writing a little each day could bring.