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Noodles: An unexpected parting.

You may have noticed I’ve been a little less consistent here lately.  I believe I missed a week, which goes against my strongest moral principles.  However, there has been much change in my life as late, yada yada, the crux of the matter being this: The Lasagna is finished.  It is no more.  I don’t have time for it.  The end.

JUST KIDDING (okay, I’m sorry mom, that was mean).

There may be some changes here though.  See, recently something happened unexpectedly which, to be as brief as possible, is this:  
I now write for a living.  
This has not always been so.  I used to spoon tiny seeds into tiny packets with holes in them, but I like to look at that as more of a hobby.  
Anyway, these days, I’m a legit, published writer with a special badge that allows me to ask people nosy questions and take photos of their children.  Because of this,  a ravenous fan (hi Auntie!) recently showed concern that I would experience burn-out and be unable to produce blog posts as voraciously as I have in the past.  
And her concerns are legitimate.  Everybody hates work, so if you do what you love for work, won’t you end up hating what you love?  
Possibly, but consider this:  
Let’s say you are wearing tiny pants.  They are your favorite pants, and you love them, but your mom shrunk them in the dryer two years ago and you only wear them when you have to look fancy (because you have to be miserable to look good - that’s a law of nature, kids).  Now let’s say you have another pair of pants that are exactly the same as the first pair, except they are not tiny.  They may even fit a little loosely.  Imagine coming home from the fancy-pantsy occasion you were at, say, the uncomfortably populated party, and changing immediately into the larger pants.  Aaah!  What a beautiful feeling!  You feel like yourself, you feel free, you can do whatever you want and no one can tell you what to do or what to say or who to be, all because of your super awesome comfy pants.  
That’s what writing for work versus writing for fun is to me.  I enjoy writing as a way to survive, because, frankly, it’s a super easy way to earn money (ha ha, suckers!), but I enjoy writing whatever I feel like writing in the way you enjoy breathing brisk pine-wood air.  It gives me energy and joy and I can be a brat and make up words and not get fired.  
So to anyone who is concerned about the future of the Lasagna due to this minor life change of career and habitation and city and state, etc etc etc...
Don’t worry.  
I’ll be here.

In fact, I am here (look behind you!).
(But, due to a low tolerance for computer-time and lack of mental energy, I may be posting less frequently and more irregularly.  Think of it as blogging constipation.  “Blostipation.”)


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