There is a huge mirror in my bathroom, directly opposite the tub. And I have perfected the art of redirecting my glance so that I almost never have to see myself in it.

I am not sure what I am afraid of. When I really think about it, though, it isn’t fear that keeps my gaze away but disappointment. Not just my body, because, lo, that is a sad state of affairs, but other things, too. I let that girl in the mirror down. There was so much she aspired to, and she still has so many dreams. It is so hard for me to keep up with her. Sometimes I just want to take a nap. Too often I do.

Part of the reason for this blog is for me to start exercising some long-atrophied muscles. I’m tired of thinking “If I’d started XYZ project when I first thought of it 9 million years ago, just think how much would be finished!” That is poisonous thinking, loser thinking, and doesn’t help me suffocate my own inner loser with the very loud voice.

I’m trying hard. Ideas are starting to flow more freely. I’m sore, but it is the good kind.

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