I couldn't sleep because the decaying furnace in our new old home rattles like Elvis on the toilet. So, I checked my email.

A young woman sent me a note. She had been informed by a friend that her name had popped up on Google and it was my blog that had referenced her. The blog posting was about a time in high school when I felt attacked by her and everyone else that was pretty and popular. In her email to me, she apologized for a particular incident even though she did not remember it occurring. In all honesty, I may have made her the mascot for some of my high school woes. I can not be certain it was her that made that particular day difficult for me. All I am sure of is that words have consequences. She read the post and felt terribly sorry for that memory I had of her. And I feel terribly sorry for making her into the whipping girl. I have been searching through my archives to find the particular post and cannot locate it, so I am offering up my humblest apologies and hope that she is able to forgive me, and I am able to learn from this experience. None of us deserve to be made into monsters. This young lady is far from a monster--she is obviously brave and has a lot of integrity to address the issue with a crazy woman who has a big mouth and a left over anxiety about high school.

Perhaps, it is time for me to let go of those demons of high school and just know: we all grow up. I'm very sorry for what I've said about this person. I do hope she forgives me, and just as soon as I can find the archived post, I'll change it or erase it or whatever I need to do in order to rectify this portrait of a person I hardly ever knew.

It's rather humbling, and rather good to know that people are ultimately kind and evolving souls.

I think I need an official respite from things.

Good things are happening all the time, it seems. Getting married is really the greatest thing I've ever done, and I am learning to be a good wife. No, not the kind of wife who serves up hot food as soon as my husband comes home, but the kind of wife who is constantly thinking of ways to make life better for my husband. I'm not sure I'm succeeding in leaps and bounds, but I do know that this new life of service is suited for me, or I am suited to it, or something.

In the middle of all this growth, we have finally purchased a home and will be closing in just a few days. I am considering graduate school, and am also in line for a promotion. I'm also trying to finish knitting about three projects I've got on my pointy sticks. I'm busy.

And while I signed up for NaNoWriMo with the greatest of intentions, I cannot seem to find the time or the inclination to truly craft a story and give it the attention it deserves. I feel like a quitter, a loser, an approximation of a bum. Shouldn't true writers find time and opportunity to create? Maybe I'm not really all that much of a writer.

There is a dearth of interesting writing in blogland, and while I feel most of my blogging constituents have much to say, I cannot help but think the end is drawing near. How much could someone really be interested in these meagre thoughts of mine--this simple life with these simple metaphors? While I am thrilled with where my days are going, and how the momentum of life is augmenting my own development, I cannot devote much time to finding the profundity of it all. I'm almost at the point of recording my days in a diary fashion.

My Typical Day:

Got up. Made bed.

Made coffee.

Checked email.

Made phone calls.

Went out on visits.

Hunted down addresses.

Came home.

Did laundry.

Studied for the GRE

Paid bills

Had dinner.

Watched 'Heroes'

Knit scarf

Worried about new house

Worried about money

Took antacid

Did crossword puzzle

Read book

Fell asleep reading book

You see my point? It's not all that interesting. And I'm so tired at the end of the day that even the interesting bits are more trivial than note-worthy.

Sorry, NaNoWriMo. I haven't tossed in the towel, yet, but I'm well on my way to surrender.