i'm baaaaaaaack

When I think too much about it I don’t know if I have it in me. I used to get so thrilled at the idea. Writing. Like what it is. Putting thoughts into words. Words into sentences. Sentences into stories. It’s been so long though. Also, I feel like I’ve written this blog post before. No, I definitely did. But sometimes you just have to repeat yourself.

Not much has happened to me since the last time I wrote something down. Actually a lot has happened. I won't go into details. That's for another day. But it’s hard for me to articulate exactly how it’s been for me. I think I think about me too much, and not enough about the world around me. Movies and increasingly television has been an escape from reality, but recently, and I guess always, they have taught me about the world, encouraging empathy for other’s stories, and an understanding of different places and people.

I signed up for something on a whim. 10 Weeks. Once a week. 3 hours. Sneak Previews at UCLA. Writers Guild Theater. It doesn’t make a lot of sense. I don’t live nearby, I don’t have the expendable income, I haven’t even been going to the movies as much as I used to. And yet something made me sign up. And I’m really glad I did.

I’m sitting inside Blue Bottle coffee in the center of Beverly Hills and there is no Wi-Fi and I parked 15 minutes away, but I’m happy right now. I’m sitting in public, writing my own words on my slowly dying laptop, and I’m happy. The class starts at 7 and I don’t know exactly how it’s going to go, but I’m ready to watch the movies, engage with the art, and try hard again. Take that all of my much more accomplished friends.