Sometimes I realize what a truly miserable person I am.  I'm an absentee sister and aunt and daughter.  The only person I regularly give the time of day is my best friend, and sometimes even that's stressful.

And I did it to myself, I know.  I isolated myself because it was easier than trying to repair the relationships I'd already destroyed.  And I sincerely want to begin fixing them, and I should, but sometimes admitting I'm wrong is terrible.  Especially for problems that are ten years old already.

What to do?

I'm creating this, because it seems like such a shame that I have this account set up and don't use it for anything.  Well, I use it to check out and comment on other people's blogs, but that's not much of anything.  That's not proactive enough.

I wish that I had something interesting to say, something worthy of being read (not that I at all expect anybody to read it.  I'm by far not a narcissist).  I'm not a writer.  I'm good at dialogue, but I'm terrible at plot and detail.  I'm not an artist.  I'm not creative enough to come up with anything on my own I'd like to make/paint/design.  I'm not political, I'm not gay, I don't have children, or a particularly amusing job.  I'm a 31 year old chubby white female that lives at the beach.

Maybe anecdotes--conversations I've had in some sort of chat function that I find amusing or insightful.  Maybe photographs from all the art galleries I go to when I travel.  Or!  Travel anecdotes!  I travel enough for that, I think.  Maybe just anecdotes, period.  I could start waaaaaaaaaaay back, but all of this would probably only be entertaining to me.

Regardless, here's my first post.  It was done so that now I can move forward.  The journey of a thousand miles, etc.