Victory Dance

If you could see me now, you'd witness some egotistical fist pumps, and a little shimmy to the tune of "30 posts in 30 days!"  Apparently, I'm not lacking in pride.

So I did it!  I can mark NaBloPoMo off my bucket list now.  It wasn't without difficulty.  My sleep has suffered.  My creativity has waned.  My rambling has droned.  My lameness has revealed itself.  Nevertheless, I did it.  I said more.  Wrote down more.  Attributed more.  Stuck to it. And that feels really good.

They say it takes 30 days to start a new habit, but I wouldn't go so far as to say I've done that much.  I'm  looking forward to being finished with my day tomorrow and not having yet another commitment on my list.  I do hope I can continue this trend of writing more, though.  I owe it to myself after this month. 

I'm also amazed at how easily writing came.  I usually think about a post, then write it, then edit it, then post it.  I didn't have time for that this month.  I just sat down and wrote whatever came to mind.  Obviously, without much of the thinking and editing, but you can see I did plenty of writing.

I'm sorry for the grammatical errors (Hi, Mom. Yes, I know!).  I'm sorry for the 10 billion commas placed inappropriately (did, I, mention, I, love, commas?).  I'm sorry for the lack of editing and often lack of cohesive expression.  But I'm not sorry for writing so much.  I'm not sorry for spending the time I didn't really have, nor for opening up my heart and allowing everything in it to flow out into my fingertips as they clicked across the keyboard, nor for revealing more of myself, nor for electing myself as the family documentarianista.  I'm not even sorry for making up words such as documentarianista to make myself sound better. Not even one bit.

I'd like to add that for me, the most surprising and remarkable discovery of all is that some people have actually read this blog all month (you crazy nut, you!).  I don't know who should be more embarrassed, me or someone that read this blog all month.  Honestly, I don't know that people have been reading for sure, but I'm just guessing from feedback.  I don't check my blog stats anymore.  Haven't in years. I've made it a rule not to.  When I do I start getting all self conscious about who is reading or even worse: who isn't.   My filter gets thicker and more restraining.  Pretending I'm just writing to the Internets without necessarily knowing to whom or to how many specifically keeps me honest.  At least, that's the idea.

So if you have hung with me, thank you.  You have been committed, too.  And by committed, I mean perhaps you should be committed.  To a mental hospital, that is.

But seriously, thank you for encouraging me this month.  Thanks for reading and commenting. Thanks for tolerating post after post of gushing regard for my kids and blah, blah, blahing about my ordinary life.  It wouldn't have been as fun without you.

I'm out.