Today instead of writing

I quit my job to write a book.
Not just a book, but that Facebook book.
The one with drama, code, and flair,
With secrets whispered everywhere.
No matter how long it might take,
I’d sit and write, make no mistake.
I stretched my wrists, I opened my Mac...
And that, my friends, is where we backtrack.

The first thing I did was not write a line,
But move back to Brooklyn - it was about damn time!
I bought a loft with ceilings 12 feet high
Not thinking about how time might fly.
I painted the walls, then painted them new.
Then again. One more time, or was it two?
The paint store staff all knew me by name.
My mother thought I was going insane.

Then instead of writing, I took class after class.
First film, then design... procrastinating with sass.
Then wintertime came, so I had to take flight...
Hawaii, of course. It just felt so right.
Then Paris. Then Lugano. Then Venice by train.
Then Hong Kong on impulse. This girl lived on a plane!
New Zealand, Australia, and pizza in Rome,
Stunning distractions from my project back home.

Palm Springs came next, a casual “yes,”
To a quick weekend trip, not a whole move back west…
An Air BnB and ice cream were planned,
But it all took a turn when I met my dream man.
We found us a house on what seemed like a whim,
And made up a new name for just me and him.
All the little details of life felt just right.
Boxes were checked, but that draft? Not quite.

We threw a few parties (okay, maybe fifty).
With champagne and caviar and everyone spiffy.
Then came a concept I truly adore:
A bookstore with secrets and bubbles galore.
I thought, “This is it! Now I’ll let myself write!”
But then, to be honest, I just drank every night.

And now, so many years of almost, not quite.
Of building a life while dodging the write...
Distractions, then detours, then dreamy delays,
Have blurred into years of a decadent haze.

I meant to write, and maybe still will.
But champagne is calling. And the paint cans are still.
The parties, the travels, a life carefully styled,
Have each told a story, a little bit wild.
It is puzzling and vexing but also delighting…
So, let this be a toast to always almost writing!