We are young, we have years ahead.

So, blogging. It's been a while; let's hope it's like riding a bike. Actually, considering my only real serious accident was while riding a bike (I lost most of the skin on my back and had a nurse digging gravel out of my flesh for an entire evening), let's rather hope it goes somewhat better.

Why the compunction to start writing again? A fair question. I didn't really have any New Years resolutions - the only one I actually made was that I vowed to embrace my inner spirit of rugged hirsuteness, but having shaved my hair into a Mohawk and rocking a very manly beard a mere two weeks into January, I can pretty much tick that one off the list. The others are fairly pedestrian, and for the most part, are ones I've already accomplished. Lose weight? Cool, done. Eat better? Like a boss, for the last nine months. Go to gym? Yawn. Get ridiculously good looking? Tick (ooh, cocky, I know). Work really hard at working hard? Totally motivated to do so, soon at least, but not now.

A big part of it is that I've been spending a lot of time reading lately. Books, and blogs - a few in particular that are exceptionally good and have inspired me to write again. I did a lot of reading over December, and it was perhaps reading Lolita by Vladimir Nabokov that reminded me about why I love English so much, with all its twists and nonsensical rules, but also its sheer beauty, the poetry and grace of well-constructed prose. I could wax lyrical on how much I love good writing, but it'd be somewhat self-indulgent, don't you think? Anyway, I had a serious case of writing envy reading Lolita, and it carries its fair share of responsibility for my desire to jot my poorly constructed ramblings down somewhere. Oh, it really is an excellent read, and I highly recommend it.

There's something uniquely personal about reading though that I love - it makes me more introspective and reclusive. A lot of people find it hard to believe that I self-identify as an introvert, but I definitely am. Reading affords me the opportunity to be true to that, and as a result, I find myself becoming increasingly withdrawn, contemplative and generally chilled out while on a reading vibe, like I was over December. December was as a result entirely bourgeois and massively civilized; eating out with good friends (no raucous drinking), the occasional pool party, sitting in the garden reading, playing with the dog or training in the gym. And while I may not have a tan to show for it, it was easily the best December I've had.

So - the writing. I guess ultimately it's as a side effect of the copious amounts of reading I've been doing, the new music I've discovered of late (there'll be a blog about that as well, I'd wager), as well as the fact that I'm in a period of massive personal and professional change. Perhaps it's something of a coping mechanism as well.

Either way, expect a few more random thoughts in the weeks to come.