There: Getting Over It

"Old is when you stop worrying about how far you've come and start worrying about how far you've got left to go." - T.O. Hob

Giddy. I wake up at three in the morning absolutely giddy about the fact that I've managed to fall asleep, only to realize that the fact that I am happy about falling asleep means I'm already awake. Now it's three-thirty and I'm stuck with a wicked case of cotton mouth and severe morning wood in the middle of the night.

Sometimes I can't decide whether God loves me or or just loves to fuck with me.

But this isn't really an entry. It's just a note. A reminder. I'm almost there. Almost. Not quite, but...well you get it. I thought I was there for a moment, but no. Not yet.

There's a story coming, the one that lets me move on to all the rest of the stories. I was so ready to tell it and then I realized I still had some *ahem* issues to sort through. Some things I had to get over.

It comes with the realization I've been here for almost a year. Doing this for far longer than I intended. I've been here for almost twenty-four years. Doing anything for far longer than I intended. I'm sort of ok with wearing out my welcome though, I'm becoming a pro at things like that.

So yeah, I'm getting there. Getting over things one by one and getting ready to tell a story which might just set loose on the world an unchecked plague of me-ness. Wouldn't that be something?

So the thing I've gotten over at three-thirty in the morning that set this all in motion?

Singing.

As I sit here quietly (paper thin walls in this place mate) listening to The Phantom of The Opera soundtrack I've gotten over the desire. It no longer bothers me that I can't sing.

Afterall it just wouldn't be fair if I could do everything, now would it?