That was just a dream, just a dream..

I am trying to feel my way toward writing a book or something of the sort. I have remembered myself all the way back to the age of my daughter, and am ready to let that child rest, take the 15 year old version back into the fold, and spoil her rotten, and also understand that I am a being that has been gaining experience for the past 36 years. I am thankful to my body for getting me here, my feet, they are magnificent and have never been without praise and cute shoes for the most part, but I have forgotten to thank them nearly enough for the services they provide. I can run in some heels, fuckers, and I will kick a box down the home stretch. Jeremy says that I always say I am ready to write. I think he means I have often said I would love to write a book, but I have never been sure of what I would write about, as all my memories are of movies, television shows, novels, bands, songs, and so forth. Pop culture, if you will. I told him I am ready to write. That is a different statement and one that I do not believe has been uttered til just now. I am sitting under the light of a beautiful full moon with my sweet kitty in the window, and my dear little family all tucked into bed. I have an idea about playing a cd, or a movie, and writing and maybe letting memories come, free association, til I get a topic to stick on. I am nervous and also elated. I am back on my medicines, and still able to concentrate, more so, even. It is interesting. I am fabulously happy in the present moment, right about now. Not trying to see into the future. Just tidying up the past, I guess! Ha. Very interesting.