Vines and weeds. And a frog.

"Comparison is the thief of joy."

I don't know who said that, but it's pretty right on. 

I also don't have a segue from that thought into my original intention for writing today. It just happened to pop into my head as my hands hovered above the keys. And it's not a bad Idea to remind myself of that fairly regularly - to stop comparing myself to every. Freaking. Person. Everywhere, because I inevitably either find myself lacking (which sucks and isn't at all accurate), or I feel superior, which, dammit, ends up making me feel bad.

But anyway. Original intention. 

Words and thoughts and words and thoughts and some more thoughts, and some words. 

You don't get them this time. Ha.

And maybe, this time, I don't really need to type them. 

Because as I think them, I see that they lead to a solution upon which I have landed many, many times already.

I need to choose happiness.

But here's the rub: choosing that comes with risk, and risk is the biscuit I choke on almost every time.

That's where I'm stuck. 

And damn, even the words and thoughts are stuck now. Like a tangle that keeps coming around on itself, each time passing "Choose happiness!" and "Caution, risk!"

So... maybe instead of drowning in words and thoughts (and words and thoughts), I figure out how to weed some of them out more often. Like I did a moment ago. (Ha.)

The ink and paper... I'll put it there. The ink and paper can be the starter pots, the seedlings, the compost, the nutrients, the, um, fertilizer - everything that helps grow - and also where I trim, untangle, weed, and encourage. Not that I can't and won't do that elsewhere, too... but I think the ink and paper is where I must do it first. And often.

I'm not sure how that makes the risk less scary, and I'm not sure if the metaphor here is really connected to the literal anymore. I'm not even sure it matters. There's a plan.

As I wind this up, I see that I wrote this so I could write the next one.

Which I won't do here.

Ha.

Gotta go. I have a frog to eat. And later, perhaps a little pruning.

Oh, and I have four blooms now.