Do

I'm finally here again. How long has it been, three weeks? No matter. I have now. That's all we have, this moment. After all, this blog is about the journey, fumbles and all. This lapse in time is apropos. This is what happens. This is why I am here.

I barely remember the flow of the day, the day of my first post. My thoughts were about the photo I chose. More accurately, the photo that chose me. All along, I had planned on using one of my more readily captivating shots. I was set to post one of the Yahara River scenes. Autumn is my favorite, but I would most likely have picked winter, to match the current season. 

Instead, I posted a view of a side of a building. It's not a Nikon shot. It's a phone photo, an Instagram. Instagram, my attention stealer. My companion, my nemesis.

Why did this photo choose me? Because it is more accurately my style. Architectural. Textural. Obscure. Not that pretty, at least upon initial observation. Urban. Kind of dirty. Something you might overlook. You might ask yourself, why that photo? Yes, that's it, and by some miracle, I saved a text to my husband which said just that. 

After three weeks of generalized anxiety related to this blog, and countless other steps I want to take toward an out of focus goal, I'm writing. 

I need to do. Not think. Not plan. Not read. Not perfect. Do. That's why I am here. 

I am here.