She's always living like she's running out of time. (Too much just ain't enough to keep her satisfied.)

So here is it. The odyssey that is me.

I've kept a livejournal for the last 5 or 6 years, but it's not the kind of thing I'd want to invite everyone and their mother to read. I started it my senior year of high school so there's a fair amount of angst involved. And angst? Is not a good color on me.

I've decided to try to keep a regular "blog" (Random fact about me #1: I hate the word "blog.") that doesn't involve me being all emo and angsty. I'm putting the minutia of my life out there for whomever to read because, as a writer, it's good to keep in practice, I think. I like the idea of my own little corner of the Internet where I can say. . .whatever I feel like. People can read it, people can ignore it, but the fact is, it's my life, and I'm sharing it. I'm long-winded sometimes, but some people are actually interested in what I say. (And that's a fact. I've been told that my journal entries are interesting to read. Actual people have said that.)

I should start with me. Liz isn't technically my name. It could have been, and, if you wanted to be technical, could be, but it isn't. However, since I work in the media, I figure that a lot of things I talk about should probably not be named specifically. You know, the paper I work for, the names of people around here, etc. If you really, really wanted to know, you could probably find out the little details fairly easily, but why don't you just take my word for it? I'm a journalist - you should be able to believe what we say, right? If you know me, you'll know what I'm talking about anyway. If you don't, you probably don't need to.

I'm the editor of the Life section of a little newspaper I'll call The Peak ('cause I live in the mountains. Cute, right?) I'm in charge of every little thing that goes on around here that would be considered human interest. I do weddings, engagements, anniversaries, births, school news, news about people who have quit smoking cold turkey after 42 years, news about ballet recitals. . .basically anything that wouldn't be considered hard news. I also do obituaries. The Peak covers the entirety of Haddis County, which is made up of 5 towns. I live in the biggest of these towns, Whitaker. I moved here from the Capital a little over 7 months ago, and it's been an interesting adjustment.

Now that I've got the introductions and niceties out of the way, I'll get on with it.

My day was long. A long and arduous day was had, but I'm not really interested in rehashing it.

I went for a run a couple of hours ago because I felt like a slug. Plus, it is hotter in my apartment (no air conditioning) than it was outside, so I figured if I was going to get all gross and sweaty, I may as well have something to show for it. I plugged up my iPod (beginning with loud, angry break-up music, as I went through something of a break-up recently) and took off. I'm fairly certain I look like a complete moron when I run, because I mouth along with whatever song I'm listening to and, if the mood strikes me, bust out with air drumming. I also tend to close my eyes when I do this, so I imagine people passing me on the street watch, waiting for me to run into something.

One of the biggest things that's different between the Capital and Whitaker is that I'm not as afraid here. I'm kind of a paranoid person by nature, but in Whitaker, I thought nothing of starting out for my run at dusk and getting back just as night fell.

I should mention that when I say "I went for a run" what I mean is "I went for a brisk walk punctuated with bursts of running until it feels like my lungs are going to explode." I'm not out of shape, per se, but running for long distances isn't something I'm able to do at this point. I'm working up to that.

Anyway, I ran to a little community in Whitaker that, I believe, used to be its own separate entity but was annexed or something, and while I was going, I was kind of struck by how pretty the area I live in is. I'm not going to lie - I'm still a little star-struck by the fact that I live in such a pretty part of the state. It's a little obnoxious now, because all the old Floridians are coming up to live in their summer homes for the next 5 months or so, but then I think, you know, a lot of people pay a lot of money to vacation in the place I call home. And that's kind of cool.

Somewhere between beating out the drum part to Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers' "American Girl" on my air drum kit and jazz handsing it through The Weather Girls' "It's Raining Men," I decided to start "blogging" for the world to see. And aren't you lucky?

It has something to do with the fact that I'm a writer and, as such, I like to be read. I'm working on a novel right now (very slow goings, especially since I keep losing the jump drive I've got the file on) but the only person who reads that is me. And there are a very limited number of people who read the livejournal. This way, I can write and feel like someone's reading me, even if it's only one or two people. Because really? I have no way of knowing. And what you don't know can't hurt you, right? Right.

I'll end with a concession I made recently. I don't drink beer. I don't like the smell and I don't like the taste. However, my friend Derek had a Bud Light Lime the other day and gave me a swig of it. It wasn't bad, and I find myself buying it now. I mention this because, as it turns out, a cold beer is pretty good after a run. I'd recommend it. Both the beer and the run.