For everything there is a season, a time for every activity under heaven.

There is a time to go home to be with family; a time to eat too much chocolate and drink too much coffee at breakfast; a time to watch high school basketball, not so much for the scoreboard but because the coach over there means the world to me.  There is a time to hold mock photo shoots for my other brother and his family because they are constantly thinking of and doing things for everyone else that it’s the very, very least I can do for them.  There is a time to get a massage, and who better to get it with than my mom and what better place than in a back alley, drug-dealing, second-floor apartment turned “massage paradise”.

There is a time to relocate, a time to learn about bank checks and money orders and the importance of finding a responsible broker.  There is a time to get the grand tour of the New York City boroughs.  However, hunting down an incorrectly labeled check around the entire city and then some an hour before friends come to help move is not the time.  Regardless, I digress.  Bringing it back.  Moving on.

There is a time to travel, a time to get on a bus and a time to get on a train.  Don’t get the two confused, though, or you might end up on the side of the freeway in Jersey.  There is also a time to get on an airplane and fly to the middle of nowhere, which really the only high calling I can understand that would take one to such a barren land as Alabama would be to meet up with family.  Many apologies if you have an affinity for the state, though not too many.  Then there is a time to rent a convertible (it’s all they had left).  I personally would never advise one to do that in February during a winter storm.  Be that as it may if your salvation is secure, your affairs are in order, and you’re wearing decent-looking undergarments that you wouldn’t mind the paramedics seeing, YOLO.  That’s up to you.

Then there is a time for dance, a time to work for classes and perhaps the only time, job, and circumstance where you will find me behind a desk is at the studio.  Additionally, there is a time to plant, pour into, and pray for the beginning seedlings of the dance team at church as well as plant, pour into, and pray for the beginning seedlings of the kids I teach in Alphabet City.  But then there is a time to dance-dance—hallelujah—a time to show up to class with my out-of-shape body and say “come what may” knowing that what I care about is what I do and will continue to do, whether or not that comes easily.

Now there is a time to be picky about what is most important, a time to lay the foundation as a young adult of what I want my life to look like and be about.  There is a time to focus in on certain things and give up others to make that life a reality.  As a result, there is a time to go silent on my blog, in order that other adventures are able to happen.

With that said, there is also a time to distinguish between stopping and starting up again and quitting for good.  April sounds like a good time to start writing.  The day I die sounds like a good time to quit.

Cheers to this new season.

Stay tuned.