Two weeks from right now I’ll have been married for a little over twenty four hours.  I’m sure that everyone is getting sick of the wedding stuff but still.  Two weeks.  Just sayin’.

I wrote a little bit in my last post about going to see Julie and Julia with Will.  What I didn’t write was that one of the reasons that Will agreed to go to the movie at all was that he was trying to make up for the little situation I wrote about here and to cheer me up because I had a thoroughly melt downy Monday.  The stress of wedding planning (and reception planning and “just get through it” ness) was (is) starting to get to me big time.

Obviously Julie & Julia did the job it was supposed to do.  It cheered me up immensely, made me laugh and reset my brain (nothing hits my reset button like two hours in a theater watching a movie).  More than that, it makes me anxious for the time when I can get back into blogging and building this site the way I want to.  I write here all the time about how much I love blogging and how much I want to put more effort into this blog and how I need to make this blog a priority.  Part of that anxiety comes from the fact that, while I love my current job of writing content for others, my real dream is to be able to write the way I do here and earn money for that.  I don’t necessarily mean earn a living through this blog (though that would be nice) but writing the way I want to about what I want to.

Again, any clients who might be reading this site: I love working with you! Truly I do! Keep hiring me!

What the Julie & Julia movie really did for me though was remind me of why I started blogging in the first place and why I keep at it more than five years later even though no book contracts have been offered and I don’t earn jack crap in ad revenue (hello, I have two tiny text ads over there, what else do I expect?).  It’s easy to read Dooce and Miss Britt and think “I wish I could do that” and get caught up in the “how can I find that kind of success” ness of blogging and lose track of why I keep coming back here day after day.  And it was good, even in my melt downy state, to be reminded.  It felt good to be inspired to get back to this space.  I’ve felt the drive and the stress of “I’m slacking on my blog” and the envy of the success of big bloggers but I haven’t felt the inspiration.  The need to keep track.  The need to really put myself out there.  The need to communicate.

When I started this blog (back in the day when it was on Blog City and called something completely different) I told everyone it was because I wanted to start really being true to who I was and to do something with all of the creative energy I felt was being sucked out me hoover style as a retail bookslut/coffee slinger.  Looking back I realize that I started blogging because I had two friends in Las Vegas and within a month one of them died and the other flipped out and disappeared and I was suddenly completely alone and just needed someone to effing talk to even if it was just the faceless ether that was the internet.

I’ve been thinking a lot about that time recently.  I don’t talk about it often beyond “yes.  That was my dark time” but I remember it.  I remember it with startling major megapixels, LED plasma 52″ flat screen bazillion dollar television-like clarity.

That feeling of being lost is, according to the movie, sort of why Julie Powell started blogging: to have something to do, something that was just for her, something to commit to, to focus on so that she wouldn’t feel so adrift.  I get that.

And you didn’t think I could bring this thing full circle.

The main point (that my long windy self has tortured long enough) is that I am excited to be able to start blogging regularly again.  It might not start with any real predictability or reliability until a few weeks from now (getting married and trying to plan a wedding and trying to wrap up all of my work projects in the next 5-6 days kind of throws a wrench into all of that inspiration) but it will happen.

Soonish.