I’m a writer. You know this.

I write for the newspaper, I write blogs, I write fiction (that I start and never finish) and I write poems. I wrote a song once.

I tweet a lot. Amazingly, a lot of my thoughts are only 140 characters or less!

My career is my hobby is my therapy. I write professionally and also not so professionally. The “unprofessional” writing ends up here. I like to think of it as my art. Or I’m just venting.

Maybe it’s because I’m a journalist, but I carry a pen and notebook with me wherever I go. (I also carry playing cards.) I’ll write down my thoughts, feelings, OH quotes from the everyday. I’ll write down my memories too. Because if don’t write it down, maybe it didn’t happen.

A lot of that ends up here too.

Next to my bed is a notebook just for possible song lyrics. Here is a sample:

Call me yours, I’ll call you mine. Trace your fingers down my spine.

Hated the freckles on my skin. You kissed them all, helped me to begin again.

Called you late last night. Needed to hear your voice but got only the recording. It’ll tide me over until the morning.

I share this because I’ll be writing a song with a co-worker of mine soon. (Why limit my self-expression to just one medium?) I’m excited! He plays the bass in the band History for Sale, and also occasionally writes and records his own songs.

He said writing songs is all about emotion. Check. I have a way with words; he has a way with chords. Check and check.

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