Thanks to a nose job, by which I mean, catching a cold in summers, I can patiently review a few realities surrounding me. This is entirely personal, and might not catch the dust off your nose.
This day, while chatting with an old friend, a not-so surprising question came within touching distance and kind of made a blitzkrieg appearance. Where am I headed in life?
Sniffle!
To save myself some unprecedented sneezes later on in life (sinusitis is a curse!) I have thought about doing something. Now, that something is more precious than a sleep over it approach. Everyone knows that.
So, where am I headed in life? Perhaps, if I can finish a book by the time I hit 33 (as reads item 1 on my bucket list..ref. notebook) I think I will do reasonably well. If not, I might consider a watchman's job and do some serious soul searching.
For now, at least, getting equipped with the process of writing is foremost on my mind. And, for this, my biography's first sentence should be: This woman did nothing except write about everything. And yes, that very ironic question about choosing a biographer instead of applying one's own nuts on it, is something you might want to overlook. And who will I hire to write about me? That reality has a bearing on how well the book I propose to write fares. Although, the idea of having a biographer is nothing more than just a fancy report card, I'd rather concentrate on getting my act together for now, and rubbing my nose again!
Catch you peeps later, for now I'm caught up with a virus.
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