Some time ago I started a blog and quit. I've purchased clean paper journals and quit after two entries. I have five or six novels sitting on the computer that don't go past chapter 2. My short stories end at peak moments. I thrive on incompleteness. Which is why I'm here again, reaching for an unfinished project.
Am I blissful? Not really - it's a state of mind I think about, always hoping to scratch its underbelly.
Do I love pink? Not at first. When I learned my third child was going to be a girl, the other two being boys, I cried, surprised and joyful, shocked that I'd done so. I never got the "girlie girl" thing, preferring jeans to skirts, preferring books to dolls, disliking anything to do with princesses, and my favorite color was deep blue. When my daughter was born, my world altered - suddenly, I liked pink. I craved pink.
Pink is everything you never thought you could or would be. Bliss is just over the fence.