Happy Birthday to Us

Don't think I don't think about this blog all the time.

I do.

I know, I abandoned it in favor of facebook, where I can get instant gratification on witticisms and/or commentary. It's very seductive.

Nowadays I hear people refer to blogs as "longform." And that we have all abandoned this longform for the shortform.

Guilty as charged!

My thing was always revealing too much. "Telling the hard truths." In my writing, that is. In my performances. Sort of socking it to the audience.

I still value that.

So much has happened since the last entry here. I started teaching a lot more, and I set some goals to live out my wildest dreams. There are a couple of things I know I need to do, things I owe it to myself to do, before I die. Or before I turn 50.

I have been reminiscing, feeling what it felt like for me four years ago at this hour. I was probably being turned away from the hospital again. I've gotten less angry about my birth experience, but no less emotional. Tonight I was standing in the kitchen, cooking cupcakes, and quietly sobbing.

So there ya go. A woman has survived the dark night of her soul.

And got a baby in the process.

Only now he's four. He says "Mo-om" in that teenager-y way; he yells at me and slams the door. He is a small body full of huge feelings. He is also entertaining beyond belief, wearing a new costume every single day, and making up songs and stories. Telling us his dreams.

Tomorrow we are throwing a medium-large shindig for him at the Zoo. Some old friends and new friends will be there. I'm looking forward to it, actually.

I better get some sleep and think about writing here again soon.