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I have always loved to write.

When I was young I would write long, elaborate, humorous stories and my friends would gather around during recess and ask me to read them out loud. I lived for English class, enjoyed writing essays and loathed the dreaded “100 words or less” type of assignments.

I dreamed about being many things when I was young: teacher, musician, missionary, voice of a Disney character, fashion designer, photographer, lawyer, therapist, personal driver, forest ranger, big rig driver…but, the one dream that never changed or went away was the idea that I would write.

I have started and stopped blogs, oh, about a million times it seems.

The thing that often stops me is this idea that everything and anything can already be found on the internet.

The internet doesn’t need another voice clogging-up its waves (or whatever it is that keeps things ticking-along behind the scenes).

I felt powerless. Voiceless.

There was nothing I had to say that would add any value or relevance to the magnitude of words already out there.

And then, just suddenly, while sitting at work one day (years after my last attempt at a blog post) it all made sense…

The world may not need any more thoughts expressed in words. But, I needed to write.

I feel lost, less myself, when I am not writing. And, as often happens with these massive life lessons, my Mother told me this long before I realized it for myself.

So, thanks, Mom. I got there eventually.

This time I hope to stick with it because, actually, I feel like I have a lot to say now.

And, who knows, if you come along for the journey, we might discover together that I did have something to contribute after all.

So, welcome back Me.

It’s been far too long (again).

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