There’s a chair in my living room that’s mine. It’s the wing back recliner in the corner of my living room.

It’s not that other people can’t sit in it, but it’s the chair I write in. It’s got a place for my elbows while I type, a place for my feet (up) and it reclines at the perfect angle for laptop screen viewing and enjoying.

I’m in my chair while I’m writing, and during televised sporting events, re-runs, quiet times when my family is asleep (morning or night) and whenever I’m sitting in the living room with Connie, my mother-in-law, because she takes the chair in the other corner. I like symmetry.

I’m going to try to write every day. There’s a good chance I’ll fail, and I’m ok with that, because I don’t believe you need to succeed at every single endeavor.

For instance, I don’t think you should fail as a parent. It’s pretty important to succeed as a caregiver. Most of the time, you should try harder to be successful at your career than at other things. When you’re cooking, you should try very hard not to poison anyone. And if you promised something to a friend, you should follow through.

After that, I don’t know. Is it possible to be excellent at an array of things? I think we try. I think we feel the expectation to succeed, that we must display perfection at all things that we attempt, for fear of being seen as a failure. (A friend of mine recently wrote a poem on the topic following the suicide of a high school student. Read her wonderful blog post here.)

I’m going to try very hard to write every day though, because as every writer knows, writing well is the product of writing often. Lately I’ve been taking to writing like a fish takes to cement, but I know I can do better. And I know I will do better.

So, welcome to my public journal of the things I think of, as I sit in my chair by my living room window, between the television and the bookcase.