So this is today...

Maybe you know what it feels like to be stuck in tommorow or yesterday and if your like me you like to avoid the present like the plague. They tell me you won't read this unless I say something to "Die For." They tell me I need a topic, a point of view, something. I am coming to you with nothing. Nothing but myself.

I don't know what category this fits into but I know I'm looking to say something or to be something but I'm in my mid-thirties and it hasn't happened yet. Perhaps you know this all too well, maybe you're eighteen or forty-five and you still aren't "there" yet, that place where you can finally breathe and say, "I lived."

I'm giving myself 365 days to find the woman in me I can respect. I want to take you on that journey. It's not that I don't respect myeself or love myself, but maybe I don't know myself enough, or know anything enough to take this journey alone. I need you to say that you heard me. I need someone to talk to in the middle of the night when everything, including my eyes, are closed. Maybe I need a friend in cyberspace as kids need a friend in outer-space. You, the reader, are my alien and my alibi.

Readers are like ghosts, but they are the reason I keep calling myself a writer. Even though I have been professionally trained as a writer, I'm still nobody. Even though I wrote a novel that no one wants to publish. And that's ok, maybe if I was somebody I would not have the time to think or to otherwise be bothered by this nagging narcissitic need to communicate with invisible strangers. You are my strangers, and hopefully my saviors, as I trespass into a journey of cliche self discovery.

So my goals are this, I want to be healthy, weathy and wise. It means I need a full time job as a writer that can support me, I need to get in shape, and I need to like meditate or something. Oh and I'd like to find a man in the midst of all of this. Or maybe just learn how to be happy without one. I've emailed, chatted, dated and now blogged on the Internet. If God isn't a computer than I don't know what I'm doing.

It's 11:44 p.m. In sixteen minutes it will be tommorow. Why do I love tommorow so much and what promise it holds. Promise you'll think for a moment, promise me you won't wait till tommorow, promise me you'll believe that we can do this today.

nina