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People ask me all the time what I’m planning to write about next.

And unless we’re speaking of the writing I do for work, I really couldn’t tell you.

Not because I wouldn’t tell you, mind you.

I just don’t have a clue.

I sit down at a keyboard, and whatever needs to come out, comes out.

Or it doesn’t. Then I scowl and proceed on to Facebook.

Occasionally, I do come up with a blog idea and mull it over for a couple of days. I might even mention it to people, at which point they offer me suggestions as to how I could make the idea better or more interesting.

Then said idea dies on the vine, overbloomed by the sunshine of their insistence that I include a story about that thing we did at the lake once. With the inner tube? Yeah. That was funny.

Most people like the idea of me writing about them.

Most people are curious to see what I’d say, given only their name as a topic.

But it’s pretty hard to just write about a person. You need a reason to write about them, or an anecdote of some kind, and even then, does anyone but the two of us care?

Only if I’m dating them.

More than anything else I could possibly write about, I’d say that’s what a good half of you hope to find here each day.

Will today be the day she writes about a boy?

About the love of her life?

About finding romance in a crowded elevator or city bus or some other scenario straight out of a deodorant advertisement?

Or will she just write about coffee again?

Yep.

Sorry.

Quad Venti nonfat latte.

Not the love of my life, per se, but damn… lookin’ good in that cup there, buddy.