I've been trying to write my About page for months. Months. I have a draft page all set up and every once in a while I stop by, write a few sentences and then delete them.
I can't do it. The words won't come. I keep coming up against the fact that in order to write a halfway decent About page it would be good to know what exactly it is that I'm doing here and that is proving to be a stupidly difficult thing to describe. For me, at least.
It has occurred to me that my journal pages are the closest thing here to the real me. That's me on those pages, probing, wondering, marveling. Trying to figure it out. All of it. Even as I stumble along, screwing it up. Trying to figure out how to balance day-to-day happenings against the bigger stuff. Trying to remember that much of the time, the day-to-day happenings are the big stuff. Thinking about the people who inspire me, who connect me with the world, who take me along on their adventures and offer to ride beside me on mine. Remembering just how many reasons there are to be grateful. Remembering to be curious. Looking back. Looking forward. But always looking around.
And all of this with colourful borders. Hand-drawn borders. (Pretty ones, I hope.) Because I like for some things to be in their boxes. So that I can try to figure them out.
Is that an About page? I don't know.