Second Time Around

There is another blog, floating around the interweb, with a similar name and a similiar style. I lost it, can't find it. 

I sit drinking coffee, reading words written by others, both hard and digital copies. A new phone sits next to me, another sign of the consumerism I haven't quite given up. 

As I read, I wonder. 

I've got words (stories-characters-plots-twists-endings-beginnings) in my head. But the creation eludes me. I want and want and want. Wanting does not mean success. Wanting does not mean words on a page at the end of the day. 

I've got a paper journal, full of thoughts and emotions. And another, full of poetry better left unwritten. I've got an electronic outlet, full of rambles and half-conceived ideas.