I just closed the covers of my husband’s special edition copy of Paulo Coelho’s The Alchemist.
The last time I got on stage in front of a substantial audience it was because I was writing a gonzo journalism piece on amateur nights at “gentleman’s clubs” in small towns across the province. I won’t get into it, but I assure you it’s not at all what you think.
It’s not that I don’t want to be a mom one day . . . it’s just that the idea of doing it right now is my idea of a disaster.
I’m the sort of person who is easily influenced into wanting more for my life.
As I write this, I’m miles away from the place I will be spending the majority of 2016.