It's been almost 6 months since I've posted in this blog.
I've been busy. I've been lazy. I've bee preoccupied. I've been lazy.
There is one way to make sure I blog. I just need to remember that it's for "Future Me".
This blog has 9 followers. And I'd be curious to see how many of those people actually read every post. My guess is closer to 0 than 9.
But there is one person who has read all of my posts.
And there is another person who, every now and then, every once in a while, every blue moon... goes back to read select posts, to relive the moments and thoughts and stimuli that lead to each post.
Future me is interested in what past me has to say because future me knows more than past me but not really because past me had the guts to write it down while future me just passively experiences what past me was courageous enough to document.
Read the paragraph again.
Future me is my biggest fan. And my biggest critic. And my closest friend. And my most jealous follower.
I've written about running, about Chase, about getting married, about changing jobs, about writing solo albums, about sports, about the mundane.
And future me eats it up.
And I don't know what it all means. Damn. No one does.
But future me will always be interested in what past me has to say.
Because I'm nostalgic. Because I'm narcissistic. Because if future me can't be a fan of past me then what's the point?
Rachel's asleep. I like watching her sleep. She's beautiful when she sleeps....
Chase is asleep, too. He turns four this year. I think I have memories from when I was four...
I'm going to play guitar tonight. And I'm going to write a song. And it won't be for you. It will be for me. For future me, for past me, for present me.
Damn. I'm a selfish person.