And so I begin. I think. ALOT. My college roommate caught me sitting silently in our dorm room. She asked me what I was doing. When I replied that I was just thinking, her face said it all. I am not like her. I've learned that I'm not unlike many others. She just didn't understand me. Thinking is one of my favorite past times. Except when it forces me to check the leaking faucet too many times. Then it looks a little more like I am OCD, but, alas, I am not. I think.
My other thing to do is observe, collect, share stories. It makes me happy to see the world and all of its charm, sadness, silliness, and love. I am ready to put them down with keyboard and screen.
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