I asked myself this question last night when I crawled into bed. Those of you who have remained readers of my little blog, know, that I, although intelligent, charming and fiercely strong-willed, have the worst luck when it comes to, well, life in general. Sure, I whine, moan and complain about every job I take-yes I’ve had quite a few, and become irritated when I don’t hear from jobs I’ve interviewed for and blaming the “idiots,” as I’ve deemed them all, for not seeing my potential. I’ve realized: I have no one to blame but myself. I never followed my dreams.

I now know I forced myself to be a computer geek, mostly out of frustration and the lack of not having anything better on life’s agenda. Don’t get me wrong-I like techie talk, solving problems and the almost instant gratification when I get it right. But the “geek” isn’t completely me- it’s only one, small gear revolving in my mind. I wrote several posts about wanting to be a journalist when I was in high school and not following through, mainly due to what I felt at the time were family obligations and the one four-letter word we never want to say- fear.

When I was little, I sang, I danced, (my poor parents were forced to watch my one woman talent shows consisting of me standing on a table, curtains wrapped around me, waiting for my mother to “introduce” me and getting pissed if she didn’t do it correctly), I read, I wrote, I told stories. I was creative- I had an imagination- for God’s sake I’m an only child, I had to have something to do, although I’m almost certain when I tell people I had “tree friends,” and yes I spoke to them on a daily basis, they either think I was a child prodigy who never fully developed her talents, or, I needed Prozac at a very young age. My mother recently told me she wished she could have done more to get me involved in the Arts-but living in Charleston, West Virginia in the 1970s, the resources weren’t available and parents didn’t just whisk their kids off to New York. Besides, I don’t blame her. We had no clue our lives would be turned upside-down when my dad died. That’s called life and we dealt with it-and are still dealing with it the best we can.

I started this blog after losing the one job in life that I loved and a relationship ending. I considered it a way to occupy my time and blow off steam. However, throughout these 4 years, I have realized something-I love to write. Whether I’m telling one of my many redneck/Wal-Mart/West Virginia stories, or about my own, sometimes, ok always pathetic ways of dealing with life, (tell me, how many people do you know who actually taped a panty-liner to their foot after cutting it during a pedicure mishap?), this blog is my way of entertaining others-just as I did when I was three. People comment, or email, telling me they liked this post, or that post, or my writing style in general-albeit I haven’t a clue as to what style it is-and I feel as if I’ve accomplished something.

If you’ve read this far, you’re probably wondering where this is leading. In a nutshell, I’ve decided I want to write. No, I’m not going to go all crazy, quit working for money and glue myself to the PC. Give me a little credit. But, I now know, actually, I believe I have known it all along, I should have followed my heart. Maybe my odd penchant for notebooks and pens was a clue. I have stories to tell. People, places and circumstances ready to make their debuts. Some of you will laugh and think I’m totally nuts. But, remember- the four-letter word we’re all unwilling to say? Fear, was it? Absolutely I have doubts and fears-but, I can, at least, admit to them.