The other phrase is "terrible at keeping up with this blogging thing." I don't even have any good excuse, and this is going to be quick as I get back into the swing of creativity (which, thankfully, has been majorly kicked in the seat of the pants by the things that inspired the theme of this entry).
I just got back from Chicago Saturday, which was a trip that was a mixture of keeping up with my NYC job(s), hanging out with my dad ... and going through some of the many, many boxes my pack rat mother saved that contained all memories and accomplishments from my childhood. And that's not a daunting task, right? What I discovered was that I clearly had a psychological problem growing up: I could not stop writing stories. There were thousands of pieces of stories (and an entire 200-page book I don't even remember writing that I apparently wrote in 5th grade) crammed into everything imaginable.
My favorite find can act as the punchline to this entry: A story I entered into a writing contest in kindergarten (likely my first contest ... and incidentally, likely my first contest winner) about two dogs who were friends. They went to the park for the day and played, then went over to each others' houses and played. It was really nothing special. However, the dogs' names made me fall in love with a 5-year old me and oddly fall in love with writing all over again (and inspired me to return to the time when I knew I was going to be a writer. And I will let that now motivate me to kick it into high gear, "for realsies" this time).
Wait for it ...
"Muffin" and "Barky."
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