Well, friends.

After much thought and contemplation and reflection and introspection and all those things, I have decided to shut down my blog. Or not really shut it down, but stop updating. Everything will still be here. For a little while, at least, anyway. The being here, that is. The non-updating is for much longer than a little while. Meaning, most likely forever. Though one never really knows, so I won't say for sure.

God, I wanted this to be more eloquent. But I can't wait any longer for the eloquent words to come. I'm not sure they will ever come.

I have lots of reasons, but kind of the main reason is that I don't feel I can even fully outline the reasons here. This blog has become something I never intended it to be, and it's really no one's fault but my own. I am suffocating here. My hands are tied behind my back. I don't even feel like I can freaking CUSS here, and, well, I cuss a lot. I like to cuss. Those words are an important, often humorous part of our language. And I'm tired of not cussing in the space my voice should be the purest.

Mostly, I'm tired of trying to be someone other than me. I'm learning to fix that in real life, and it has therefore become unsustainable here. Which is a good thing.

As part of my new year's resolution, I will still be writing. Hopefully I'll even be writing about what's actually going on in my life. It's just not going to happen here.

If you want, you can e-mail me, and I can tell you some of the reasons. Or you can e-mail me and tell me something about you, and we can parlay our blog friendship into an e-mail friendship. I like e-mails. I still feel like myself there. And I like you. Even if I don't know you yet. I generally like everyone. Or, if you live in the area, you can e-mail me and we can parlay our blog friendship into a real-life friendship. Those are the best.

So. I guess that's it.

Much love to you all. I will miss you. Very much.

And thanks for reading.

S.

For Christmas this year, I'm giving myself two weeks away from the blog. It is well needed. The other day, my boss called my blog "dullsville," and, really, I had to agree with her.

When I get back, I hope to find the courage that I'm always looking for to write about what is actually going on in my life. Maybe 2009 is the year. In fact, I decided just now that it is my new year's resolution. I'm going to make 2009 the year.

I wish every one of my readers a happy Christmahanukwanzaakah. Many blessings for the end of 2008 and the beginning of 2009.

A snail, forever
Stuck to a grey concrete wall,
Dried up, left mid-crawl.

One of my favorite things about my job is my window.

(My desk was decorated for my birthday in this picture, by the way--it doesn't always look like this.)

It is a west-facing window on the 29th floor of a 36-floor building in downtown Dallas. Just before I started my job, my boss convinced the big boss that natural light is absolutely essential for copyeditors to do their job properly, and he took immediate action to move the copyeditors to the one wall of windows in our office. And it really is true--I do need my window to do my job properly. But mostly because if it were taken away from me, my job satisfaction would plummet.

In the summer, the light coming in through the window in the afternoons bakes my feet.

In the winter, I watch the sunset every clear night. Sometimes it is outrageously beautiful. On those evenings I take a picture of it with my MacBook. It always surprises me how quickly the sun disappears under the horizon. There's just a slice of it, still illuminating the world, and then, not two seconds later, there's nothing. Just darkness, and the light of a thousand buildings, cars, and houses.

But today all I see is fog. And it's creeping me out a little.

Chad and I are trying something new in which we share with each other something we found beauty in each day. Yesterday, I told him that I found beauty in watching the fog wisp around outside my window and build up to such an extent that the light coming through my window reminded me of the bright light that occurs the morning after a snowstorm.

But it's been several days since I've seen the sun now, and I'm ready for it to come back. And when it does, it, too, will be a beautiful thing.

I am the girl sitting in the window of the Quiznos on Harwood at lunchtime, eating a cup of chili and reading Raise High the Roof Beam, Carpenters and Seymour: An Introduction.

You should stop in and say hello.