sidewalk leaves after the storm

lately, while lying awake in bed at night after another whirlwind day of playing mommy and house wife, i get this ridiculous idea that i ought to start a journal. and sometimes i actually resolve to do it. but, of course, that's just the wishful thinking, restful, dream-ready brain's resolve. and i assure you, come morning even if that now groggy brain is still imagining great journal keeping achievements, by the end of the day those thoughts have been swept away by the whirlwind again. it really is a pipe-dream to think i would ever find the consistency to keep it up for more than a day or two. also, i'm a terrible perfectionist when it comes to writing. all kinds. letters, thank you cards, blog posts and you guessed it, personal journal entries. so, basically nothing ever gets written. it's awesome.

there's a point to this.

last night that dreamed-filled brain of mine was waxing creative again and strove hard to convince me that something must be done about this whole lack of writing business. the silence must be stopped. and the sleeper awakened. so we made a deal. i would commit to blog more (as opposed to journaling) in an attempt to record these moments swiftly passing into days and weeks.

also.

for months now (okay, years) i've fancied the idea of starting an online poetry journal for women. that's right, i said poetry. and yes, it's essentially a blog. for chicks. of course, in my fancy it's much more than those things. i got a url for it and messed around with the formatting; event told a few poetry loving friends about it. but there it sits in it's virtual loneliness. collecting internet dust. because i'm too chicken to follow through with it.

incidentally if you are reading this and happen to think a poetry blog for ladies by ladies isn't a disastrously stupid idea i wouldn't mind you saying so. maybe all i need is a few nods of approval.