Lollapalooza this weekend--and I'm not there.

I'm here. In the quietest office in the world.

So, I was just telling my boss--one of them--that he shouldn't be intimidated by starting a blog. "A blog is a free, organic, living, breathing thing," I said with an alarming level of confidence. "You don't have to update it every day. You don't have to update it every week. You just have to be consistent, and also allow for people to be alerted when you post a new post--and if they care to read what you wrote, they will come. And if not, well, they weren't your audience anyway."

And then I promptly logged onto my blog to prove my point, only to discover that I have not posted in an embarrassing two months. Shame on me.

And here's why: I have no idea. I guess my new job is really challenging. Lots of moving pieces. Lots of meetings. Lots and lots of emails. I even got an intern for the summer. Maddie. I want to kidnap her and not let her finish her senior year. Actually, she's been working on her own blog this summer: "Confessions of a Summer Intern."

Sometimes it seems that most of what I do is write emails, either in response to other people's emails, or to create an email that generates a flurry of responses...for me to then respond to.

I am very important.

Brendan has been training for Ironman Wisconsin for the second time, so he's constantly on his bike or running or swimming, or all three. I miss him when he's out doing these things, but on the flip side, I have had a very relaxing summer with quite a bit of free time on my hands. And, in my free time, I have been re-hashing my first novel--which I'm not sure has much improved since the last time. I think it has, but no one who matters (those who would sign on to sell it) seems to agree. And this has led to a grave depression. Okay. Not really. But, doesn't that sound so dramatic? Really, I've got a pretty thick skin at this point.

I guess, though, what I wish was that someone would say to me. "Look, kid, this isn't quite there, but you're real close, see? Stick this in a drawer and show me what else you've got." James Cagney is my fantasy agent.

Or maybe I should chuck it all and give up.

But, I can't, because I can't help but make up stories anyway--and if I do that without the writing part, I'm pretty sure that just makes me liar.