This post, in particular, is not for you.

In 90 days, I’ll turn 50, and I feel like I should do some sort of thing about that, even though I’m practically queen of telling people that it’s ok, and life may not particularly have a purpose.

I had a lot of concepts about who I would be and what I would have accomplished at 50, and I suspect over the next 90 days, I’ll at least be examining what it all means, but hopefully it’ll be in a series of essays about … just, stuff. Because the one thing I’ve learned about myself is – just don’t define it so much. 90 days, 90 essays.

For the next 90 days, every day, I’m going to try and post. I’ll probably fail, often, but I won’t fail 90 times in a row. And I suspect I can’t write 90 terrible things in a row, either.