I get my best ideas drinking a glass of whiskey alone on my balcony with my cat. (That may sound a bit spinstery, or even a little reckless, but so far it has done me no harm. I’m much too lazy to do more than fall fast asleep after a second glass of Bulleit. More likely, it catapults me into a new TV series addiction, causing me to see how quickly I can power through each season. If this doesn’t sound like a great idea to you, then you’ve clearly never watched “Friday Night Lights.”)
I’m not often alone. Sure, I live alone, and I commute alone, and I run alone, but most the time, I’m not alone. Maybe that’s why these moments of solitude allow me to fully disengage from the busyness of everyday life and responsibility. Laziness can be indulgent or sloppy, but slowing down and settling into an evening of bourbon and books with no one to interrupt inspires me to do things I forget to do. Like write. I love to write – I do it every day – but I rarely do it for myself.
I have journal upon journal of sloppy handwritten musings, half-hearted and far-fetched goals, and detailed descriptions of the gelato I ate overlooking the Tiber River. Pieces of experiences that have changed me and inspired me – and simultaneously, escaped me. I want to stop telling fragmented pieces of my story. And, like the narcissist this first post is proving I am, I want to share this story with anyone who will listen.
Which brings me here.
I can’t promise every sentence won’t start with first-person diatribes (or double negatives that totally debunk the theory that I’m good with grammar), but I can promise a random hodge podge of travel, unicorns, Britney Spears and champagne.
* Title inspired by Paulo Coelho, “The Alchemist”:
“We are travelers on a cosmic journey, stardust, swirling and dancing in the eddies and whirlpools of infinity. Life is eternal. We have stopped for a moment to encounter each other, to meet, to love, to share. This is a precious moment. It is a little parenthesis in eternity.”