A Flap Jack and a Cigarette.

Initially, I thought I'd write a blog to keep everyone in the loop of my adventures downunder. You can't keep too many people in the loop when you haven't posted more than three times since October. Not to mention, to write in a story-telling fashion is a bit of a pain if you're not in sync on a daily basis.

Change time.

It's a strange thing, being a bit of an 'old fashioned' gal in the process of conforming to today's 'linked in' approach, as nearly everything is a slave to. I've never been one to have a front seat on the Band Wagon, for I'd rather bike to my own song. There seems to be an air of groupie acceptance behind the drapes of it all. The days when Ph D. and M.A. were decoration to one's name, you now have a GPS thread of facebook, twitter, and instagram accolades taking their place.

As I embark on bringing all that I have hidden between the comforting pages of my moleskin to the hash light and melodic clicking of keys, the safety that I find in my journaling dawns. To me, there are few smells that can be enjoyed more than opening a crisp new book or journal, or finding the perfect pen that glides over a blank page, bringing forth a story no better told. How the same story could then be broken to pieces with the wrong messenger from pen to page. Ruined.

Evolution. Bringing that same story, the feelings, the warmth, the grins, to an audience that has taken to a new medium. When being stubborn doesn't get you anywhere close to the stars you've aligned for  yourself. It's a makeover of habit, a rewiring of hobbies. Things that do not come easy. Douse that with stubborn and you're looking at the party in metamorphosis.

The time has come that no longer can the ache, the yearning to let the words, the stories and the thoughts explode from within, to the outskirts of comfort. There is a backdoor in the playground of our minds that knows no other than to stay tightly locked. Years of coaxing, and breaking down, letting go of the attachment to those words that you deem as 'yours,' can surely do wonders. That is where I sit. It is a need as strong as hunger, to write. To write it all. It's what I think about when I'm doing something I'd rather no be doing. The body will talk in this fashion. When a choice is made to perk up your ears and have a listen, creation can begin.