Hear my muse...

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I haven't had many readers at the new blog site. And that's o.k. It will be there, if folks are interested.

I wrote the other day when writing out some goals. (Yes!! I'm writing goals again.  That's a good thing.  It's been...hmmm...four years.)

I wrote the other day: "Hear my Muse.  She is always with me.  Write for her and no one else."

I've thought of adding some back story to the new blog, some mental illness snippets. Not the struggles. But rather the practitioners.

There is no way I can capture the barrages in words. One has to have experienced such, I think, to grasp the horror.

The past few days as I've thought through what to write next, the avalanche comes tumbling. So much back story; too much to relate. Plus I'm not that good of a writer.

I'm thinking to touch upon Dottie and Dr. McColloch and Janet.  Todd would have to be in there too.

I sit at a different Panera today. The one on Miller Street. The gas logs are burning a toasty fire. I drink green tea; soft jazz comes through the speakers.
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