The dog sits in front of the fire on this cold November night. Winter, a time for introspection, turning within and taking refuge from the cold. Though in the midst of fall, I feel wrapped in the cozy inwardness of winter. I try to write while the TV blares. What flows from mind through fingertips is fragmented, disconnected, un-cohesive, disjointed. All day I have fantasized about the moment when I would sit with keyboard in hand, pouring my heart and mind out onto the screen. The moment has come and yet I feel too fragmented from the voices of the actors to focus on writing. But I am writing, and it brings me comfort. I love the expression of the words that arise in my mind, whether inspiring or utterly useless. This is enough for tonight. I am content.