writing

Fucking Roundabouts

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We recently got a roundabout in town. It took the place of a traffic light that created more trouble than it was worth. The roundabout really helps. Unfortunately, a lot of people don’t know how to use it. It’s a one lane circle with four exits. That whole yield to traffic in the circle thing has them baffled.

Let me tell you a thing, townsfolks – this is the easiest traffic circle, roundabout, devil’s trap you will ever find anywhere in the world. It’s well lit, signs are posted, it is now literally the easiest intersection I have ever encountered.

As some of you remember, a few years ago I went to Wales, and I spent a week driving there. Having never driven on the left side of the road was bad enough, but the fucking roundabouts! Holy mother of Satan! I should warn you now for language. There is no language that is off limits in describing the Welsh roundabout.

It’s a rural country, Wales is. I almost never had a car behind me or was in any traffic to speak of. Unless of course, you are in a roundabout. Then, every fucking driver and his brother are so close up your arse that they should buy you dinner first.

There was one roundabout, just to interrupt; they call them roundabouts. Sounds civilized, doesn’t it? Much like the Scottish version of ‘hills’ which are really fucking mountains. (Look up Craigower Hill if you don’t believe me.) Cunting roundabouts! Traffic circles from Hell! This is no exaggeration. Driving in Hell would not be this bad, and that includes not having air conditioning down there.

As I was saying, there was this one roundabout; one of many really, but this one really stands out. Plenty of traffic; of course I’m the only one who doesn’t know what they’re doing.

First, you enter the roundabout when there’s a lull. There is no fucking lull. It is four lanes of fucking no lull. But wait, there’s more to ‘first’ than meets the eye. When you enter, you of course, enter to the left. The steering wheel is on the right side of the car and you enter from the left when there is a lull.

Good fucking luck.

You enter the circle and you look for your exit.

This fucking roundabout – did I mention that it has four fucking lanes?! This fucking roundabout has signs, but they’re useless. I don’t even see how native Welsh drivers can understand them.

All signs are in both Welsh and English. This isn’t a problem, but one example I’ll share that I ran into more than once is ‘men working’ in Welsh is something like five words. Construction ahead took two signs and that was just for the Welsh portion.

These signs for the circle, in the circle: do they say: Bangor, 10 miles with an arrow pointing the way? No, of course they don’t. They say something ridiculous like A4 with an arrow.

A4?!

Fucking cuntswallop! Is this Bingo?! I didn’t get my Bingo card when I entered the roundabout – who do I see about that?

So I go around again, hoping that the car riding my arse isn’t going to hit me even though I’m going twice the speed limit since I still don’t know if it’s miles or kilometers and I’m hoping for the best. (It’s miles by the way.)

There is a sign detailing all of the exits. There are seven spokes to this roundabout. SEVEN!

Four of them say Bangor. Bangor is about the size of Central Park. Alright, maybe that’s a slight under-estimate, but it’s a smallish college town with basically one road through the whole of it.

Now, the fun begins.

To exit, you need the left most lane. Or do you? When you exit, you are exiting from this four lane monstrosity to a two-way, two-lane, no yellow lines, bordered by ancient or at least medieval stone walls that barely give your side view mirror room to scrape by.

And scrape by I did now and again.

To digress, on a one way street, it’s even worse. And that’s assuming you’re driving the right way; you never know with the GPS piece of conCRAPtion. Modern compact BMW versus thousand year old wall? Scrape the wall. After a thousand years, that wall isn’t coming down. Trust me. Besides if I don’t scrape that wall, I scrape the church on the other side. St. Mary’s. Also about a thousand years old.

And now back to our regularly scheduled rant. Now you hope that this is the only roundabout, but it’s not likely. They like a series of them to keep you on your toes. I think it’s a Darwin test – survival of the fittest. Or the luckiest.

Roundabouts are the reason there’s a church on every corner. If you’re not praying while you’re driving, you’re clearly not stressed enough. Most of my time behind the steering wheel included my white knuckled clutching until the final stop when I could barely uncurl my fingers and heaved a sigh of relief that I was still in one piece.

Often I would burst into tears upon stopping simply at the thought of having to go back the same way, but there was also the release of tension with the tears. And then a deep breath.

For about three weeks when I got back, I needed a sedative to be a passenger in a car that went through a roundabout.

Roundabouts are the devil’s spawn.

Discovering One’s Shadow

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When I first read the prompt, “discovering one’s shadow” I immediately thought of Peter Pan. Then I thought of the Vashta Nerada. Logically, next of course, was Green Day’s Boulevard of Broken Dreams. And finally, I remembered that I  once wrote a poem for my high school yearbook about spies hiding in the shadows. It was inspired by Roger Moore’s James Bond, an inside joke about a teacher we disliked, and them coupled with the new style of story music videos from Duran Duran – their Hungry Like the Wolf, Save A Prayer, New Moon on Monday, Nightboat – all different from the usual rock and roll guitar solo videos of live concerts that we were used to at that time. But shadows have both the reputation for being both scary and enlightening. You can’t have a shadow without a light source, can you? We hide ourselves in our shadows, waiting for the right opportunity to glide out quietly as if we’d always been in the light or we can jump out and surprise (or scare) whoever hadn’t noticed us near.

I continued to glance at my inbox at this prompt and never having anything to say, I moved on. Now that it’s the last day of February and I need to begin work on my monthly review, I thought I didn’t want to leave this prompt in the basket. Grasping onto one of my hidden agendas, stealthy goals is not so much to stop procrastinating on my writing, but to motivate, motivate, motivate or not only won’t anything ever get done, but nothing worth doing should wait.

I began to see visions of shadow; not the scary, hidden demons down the alley, but the shadows of things past, the shadows of things not yet done, the shadows of things I’m afraid of doing, and that maybe I shouldn’t run from the shadows, but embrace them as part of who I am; who I want to be.

This year has started out pretty badly. Some of that will be covered in my monthly review scheduled for later, but between getting sick, not really getting better, losing a friend, misplacing another  (or was I the one misplaced), not feeling as loved as I might want to be, misunderstanding more than I’ve been understanding, I’ve noticed the shadows closing in.

When I look directly at them, they mist away. They know that if I ever dared to confront them head on, they’re just not that scary. And the reality is that they were scary, but now, they are merely roadblocks. They are the future; my future.

I see the outline of who I want to be, and if I can breathe out and billow at the wisps until they swirl, it is much like a relief painting. The colors are hidden below the black paint, and you use the stylus to chip away at the blackness to reveal the picture beneath. Much like carving an ebony statue until what you have left is the masterpiece that you’ve been looking for.

That is discovering one’s shadow.

Discovering what lies beneath the darkness; the mind-space that is swirling just below the surface. You can feel what it should be, what it will become, but it’s not quite there yet and it is only upon discovering yourself that you see the shape of the shadow, and now can mold it in little places, shoring up where the mists try to waft and float away. The parts that essentially do slip away were the parts you didn’t need anymore; the shattered shards of a mirror. Look at your past in the broken bits and look for your future in the rest of it; carving out your niche, your belonging place, your you-ness that is inside, slowing becoming more real and less shadow like, expanding, broadening, extending, solidifying. More.

More you.

Flowers

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This is a rock from Dolwyddelan Castle and a leaf from Colonial Williamsburg.

My favorite flower is the Daffodil. I don’t have it so much anymore, but my living room used to be decorated with all kinds of daffodils, pictures, paintings, live flowers in the spring. When we moved, it turned out that we decorated with pictures of our kids. Now that I’m typing it out, maybe I can add some of those pictures.

In four weeks is one of my annual ‘pilgrimages’. We have a garden and flower show. I try to take the Friday as my day and spend it at the flower show. Friday is usually the least crowded of the days, although they’ve started having some school groups visit on Friday. The admission benefits a local developmental disability organization for kids.

There’s always a theme and I usually post pictures afterwards, sometimes from my phone in the bleachers of the show. They’ve had themes of fairy tales, Harry Potter, water, English garden, and different landscape businesses show off their talents. It’s a good way for them to get some added business; gardeners get some ideas for their home gardens. They have workshops to help the amateur gardener get their house and gardens summer ready. In recent years, the Cornell Cooperative Extension has had cooking demonstrations using freshly grown vegetables and fruits. It’s all about the gardens.

I usually wander through the vendor area, picking up freebies, trying jams and dips, sauces and oils, getting ideas for cooking. I try to avoid buying anything because other than admission and lunch if I don’t bring it, I try to have a no/low-cost day.

After my time through the vendor area, I take my first look at the flower displays. It is always cool in the gym and all of the flowers’ scents blend to create this wonderful outdoorsy feeling. I take a few pictures and take a quick look through, and then I climb into the bleachers with a drink and a snack and write.

I journal, I do prompts, I make lists. Sometimes, I make a couple of phone calls if I want to share my day with people, but more likely I enjoy my quiet time and plan out other writing assignments. This year, the show falls right in the middle of Lent, so I won’t be able to have my favorite Diet Coke. I’ll try to manage on water. It’s also Friday, so McDonald’s cheeseburgers will be out of the question. That’s okay. There’s a little café at the show, and they sell salads. I imagine that I’ll be thinking a lot on my upcoming sacraments. Pretty sure the weekend is almost exactly halfway between my Rite of the Elect and the Easter Vigil. I do plan on writing a bit more about faith and my faith journey in particular. I’ve been asked to write a guest piece for my church’s blog about my studies on the way to becoming Catholic. And really nothing helps a faith journey like a visit to nature, even if it’s manufactured in the gym of the community college.

There is a feeling of otherworldliness and faith in nature, even in this display of climate controlled nature. The sights and the smells are the same and when you close your eyes, the coolness of the circulating air is a breeze through the leaves and when they flutter down, they are magic until they land on the damp, dewy ground and if you pick it up, you can take a little bit of that magic with you.

I Remember – First Plane Ride

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I have a vivid memory, but I’m still not sure how much of it isn’t fantasy. I’m holding Dad’s hand and we’re boarding an airplane. We are standing in the aisle looking for our seats and I picture myself perfectly. White patent leather shoes to match my little purse, carefully placed Jackie O style on my arm. My jacket is all white and buttoned up to my neck, the collar properly turned down. I don’t think I had a hat. Although my hair is neat, as neat as a five year old’s can be anyway, but still sticking out over my ears, a little more than it does now. I’m not wearing the gold pin of pilot’s wings, but I must be clutching it in my small hand. I kept that for a long time after, but haven’t seen it in decades. I did get a replacement provided by my friend, but now you have to ask for your wings. They don’t think they let you visit the cockpit anymore either, although I don’t recall visiting the cockpit on this flight. We were on our way to see family in Toronto, Canada, and since we always drove and my mother and siblings weren’t with us, I can only imagine that it was for some kind of big event like a funeral. We always stopped in the duty-free shop when we drove, so I can only imagine that we did on this visit as well, although Dad could have only gotten half the normal allowance of whiskey and cigarettes, a staple of ours on our return trip to the United States. My parents didn’t drink, but this was a time when you kept alcohol in your house for guests; just in case. These little snippets of memory pop out at the least provocation. Sometimes, they don’t seem so far away.

Three Things

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The coordinator stated the day’s free write prompt: Three things that you look forward to during the blizzard in your own backyard.

Me: And if there’s nothing?

Coordinator: Try fiction?

 

Seriously, though, the snow is pretty. Last week, looking out of the windows, I thought I was on the inside of a snow globe. It wasn’t terribly windy, but the flakes were swirling and spinning and while the snow was piling higher on the grass and the driveway, I didn’t actually see any of it fall. On those days when the kids are already snuggled at school, and the car is parked for the day, I like to sit in my corner office with a hot cup of tea. The recent favorite is Twining’s Honeybush, Mandarin and Orange with just a little bit of sugar – barely two teaspoons. The scent is decidedly citrus, but it’s not overpowering. It slides down my throat with the illusion of honey – smooth and silky and warm.

I only drink my tea out of one or two cups. The first is our Corningware set. It’s white with little yellow vines and flowers, the Kobe pattern. It’s Corelle, which most of us remember from childhood, but these mugs are still breakable. The other is a large mug from Silvergraphics, one of the school’s fundraisers and really the only one worth doing. I hate to pick favorites, but my son’s vase of flowers is my favorite. The other mugs are too small or not the right shape – wide mouths or tiny handles, too light or too heavy. I also cannot drink from a cup with someone else’s name on it; or horoscope. There is something very wrong there. I may not know who I am, but I am certainly not you.

Three things? Really? Lets’ see: the pretty white blanket that covers the ground and gives the pines that Christmas card look. Hot tea in a quiet office of my own. And enough snow to make my excuses to not go out seem plausible, but not so much that the kids are home more than two days in a row. Or have a snow day before a vacation. Too much stir crazy going on then.

One.

Two.

Three.

There!

I managed it and it’s not even fiction.

2013 in Review – 2014 in Preview

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2013 Year in Review

Most years are a mix of good and bad and 2013 was no exception.

I didn’t accomplish all of my goals, and while that was my lack of focus there were also extenuating circumstances. For the most part, my depression and anxiety were under control and when they weren’t I usually had the presence of mind to remove myself from the situation or recognize enough to grab my phone and sort it out with my friends.

Our biggest ‘bad’ was in June; my mother in law was hit by a car. We weren’t sure she was going to make it, but she made remarkable progress and was released from the hospital the week before Thanksgiving.

During our visit in the summer, I was triggered by the nursing/rehab facility. It was very unexpected for me. Things bother me but never to the extent of triggering in this way. Because of the circumstances I couldn’t talk to my husband about what was going on with my reactions, but I was very lucky that I had friends visiting NYC (which is close to my MIL’s town) and I was able to take a quick (ish) train ride into Manhattan and spend about twelve hours with people who were able to distract me enough and talk enough and hug enough to put the trigger reactions aside for the rest of our visit.

We also put our finances in the ‘bad’ column, but I won’t get into details of that here. That is one of the subjects that I will be talking about in January as part of my writing.

Speaking of writing, I actually did quite a bit of it in 2013. I didn’t expect to take any trips and planned out physical retreats as well as online retreats. I didn’t do as well as I would have liked, but that just gives me something to work on in 2014. It wasn’t disappointing enough to knock me down and discourage me, but it wasn’t good enough and that might be enough of a motivating factor.

I made two writing retreats for myself. I’d put the kids on the bus, go to Mass, and then disappear until 3:30 or so. I also included an online retreat from Days of Deepening Friendship, a website that includes writing and faith. In December they had an Advent Retreat. I didn’t do as much for this as I would have liked, but I did follow the Thursday topics and made lists rather than write prose.

December winded up being so busy that I wrote 0 words, but more than made up for that in November.

I started keeping track in May, and for 2013, I had a total word count of 171,920. The topics I wrote about included: Fandom – Harry Potter, Daydverse, Supernatural, the actors, some Fan Fic, two Memoir workshops, Money, religious/spiritual, travel, random prompts, tea, politics, mental health as well as writing a lot about the summer of Misha – GISHWHES, Random Acts and Endure4Kindness (an eleven hour writing marathon for charity).

Not including December which I’ve said was 0 words, my lowest month was October (2397) and my largest month was November (16, 777).

I’ve talked a lot about attending Catholic Mass, and that continued throughout 2013. I enjoyed (and still do) attending Mass and seeing how the readings helped and spoke to my daily life. I am still sometimes amazed that something written so long ago and the passages chosen by someone a couple of years ago to be read are still so relevant to specific things in my life.

I have been attending the RCIA (Rite of Catholic Initiation for Adults) to receive my sacraments at Easter and become a member of the Catholic Church. I’m excited by this and I really like learning the history and the rituals. What I’ve found most interesting is that everything I’m hearing and learning validates things I’ve always thought about the spiritual world my whole life. It tells me that this is the path I’m supposed to be on because it’s always been in my head; I just didn’t know what it meant.

Fandom events included the season finale (season 8) and the season premiere (season 9) of Supernatural, the 50th Anniversary Special of Doctor Who as well as the Christmas special with the regeneration and introduction to new Doctor, Peter Capaldi. (Really looking forward to Easter!)

I took two trips to Virginia (one by train which I’d love to repeat), thanks to my best friend and met some really awesome people who will be in my life forever.

As family, we took two trips to visit our family (in the summer and Thanksgiving) and my sister-in-law came to see us for a couple of hours during the Christmas holiday.

As I said, it was the summer of Misha (Collins) – GISHWHES, Random Actopolypse, then Endure4Kindness in November. I have grown very fond of Random Acts as a charitable organization, and all of my ‘extra’ change either went to them or to my church.

I anticipate repeating much of these activities in the next year, especially the new traditions of writing retreats and Random Acts activities.

 

And now, for 2014! What will my focus be on in 2014? How will I be motivated for the next year?

You may have seen some of this in my daily 365 posts, so I do apologize for anything that’s redundant.

In 2013, I had three New Years and I’ve just begun this one. Half of you just went, Three?!

  1. Jan. 1, 2013
  2. Rosh Hashanah, the Jewish New Year
  3. Advent, Dec. 1, 2013 – the start of the Liturgical Calendar

I’ve always made my resolutions for Rosh Hashanah. There is a built in assessment at the end of December, and then I can reassess and add or subtract goals based on what’s been working and what else I want to try out.

The only thing that seemed to work this year, though, was November. Random Acts’ E4K (Endure 4 Kindness) set me up to succeed and my writing workshops reinforced it, but before and after I kind of floundered.

I’m hoping to do better this year (and I think I’m off to a pretty good start). If we’ve nothing to strive for, what is even the point? No one is perfect, least of all me, there is always one more goal to meet, one more goal to set as long as the world goes round and round.

One of the central themes of my life this past year has been Mental Health issues. I was diagnosed with severe depression and anxiety in 2012 and it took nearly all of that year to get the medicine right and become more in recovery and less floundering like a fish on the dock. 2013 was a better year for paying attention to relapses, to successes, to triggers and to coping and I did a lot of talking about it. I found that I could give advice when asked and I could even take some, so that will be one of my writing subjects for 2014.

The second will be Religion and Spirituality and how mind has evolved and changed, how it’s helped me and given me new insights, not only to myself, but to foreign things I thought as a child and young adult that now make more sense with this new context.
Third, finances. Advice, bankruptcy, home buying, not sure where this will go. I’ve tried to write about the disaster that is our home buying experience at least a dozen times, but every time I do, I break down in tears. Maybe this is the year I get through it, at least a first draft of it.

Of course, I’ll throw in parenting and fandom and travel because at heart I’m a babbler, so let’s see where 2014 will bring will bring us and my writing.

Happy New Year.

 

Self-Reassurance. Maybe.

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I’ve spent most of today off of the computer. Even if I’m writing, I’d still stop and check tumblr and Facebook.

Still cleaning up papers, making plans in my notebook. I even set up an accountability log – never doing this is always so discouraging when I want to check how I’ve been doing.

I’m still upbeat even though worried about friends. I know they’re doing well and they know how to find me if they need me (not p-a at all – more in line with reassuring myself that I’m valued and silence doesn’t mean rejection – now if I can only remember this when I’m not upbeat.)

I finished series 1 of Sherlock. Really enjoyed it. I’ll start series 2 tomorrow as a reward if I do the 2 writing assignments I’ve given myself.

Tonight is watching Green Lantern with the family and getting back to my book.

Sherlock and Stewardesses

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I’m looking at yesterday’s 365 post and I’m postponing the dusting. This morning’s chores took longer than I thought they would. First, it’s freezing. Unbelievably freezing. I went to Mass, got the few pics printed at CVS for my journal, got some groceries and cupcakes to deliver to my daughter at school, then home for breakfast. How exciting, right?

Looking at my list, and I’m thinking it’s a good thing I put a to-do list in that post so I have a road map. I’m not feeling particularly motivated other than motivated to keep reading The Jet Sex.

But that is my reward once I get through my list.

Jar done. *high five*

Time to shut down the computer and work on my green notebook. (Yeah, sorry, this post seems to be a blow-by-blow and I’ll hit post at the end for #7).

So I feel asleep – um….intentionally took a nap.

Actually, I watched A Study in Pink – first time. I could feel myself grinning at Sherlock and John’s chemistry. I really liked it. At least, I’ll be able to catch up easy enough. Second episode tomorrow when the kids go to school.

I’ve organized the green notebook. There are ten sections: Notes, Content Calendar, Ongoing Business, (a section for an event I’m part of), Fandom, Depression – Mental Health, Spirituality – Faith &
Religion, House – Buying & Maintenance (the experience and pitfalls, not the daily journaling about my household crap), and Money, Matters (mostly my personal money issues).

My next big original post will be about my financial difficulties. I know our situation is not unique, and sometimes we can help each other (not just in a monetary way). We do have a Go Fund page, and for anyone who’s followed our specific problems, I will have an update and a link.

I will also post my first piece of writing from my Endure 4 Kindness back in November. I didn’t get any pledges (hopefully, this will improve for next year’s event), but I pledged myself a single donation for the day ($15). The donations benefit the Random Acts organization. I have mentioned them before and I will link them in a future post. They are very worthy of your time and your money. There is no amount too small. Every little bit helps.

Currently, we are making dinner and I’ll be typing up the quick short things that I wrote during Advent.

After that, I will take some time with my new journal and then more of Vicki Vantoch’s book. She has a wonderful writing style; I’m sure that I will be sharing more about this book as I read it. When I read her dissertation, it brought back my own memories of wanting to be a stewardess once I realized that I couldn’t be a pilot. I was an enormous fan of Amelia Earhart’s and flying was a new thing. I remember a trip I took with my Dad to Toronto. I can picture my little white jacket and a patent leather white purse with one of those change purse clasp things to close it. I’m pretty sure that the hat I’m picturing on my messy head is a projection of the times; I don’t believe I ever had a fancy travel hat.

Whenever I’m asked what I wanted to be growing up, I could never remember. My parents worked for the post office and that was something I used to think about as well as for the police department in some capacity or a private eye like Jim Rockford, but somewhere in my latent memories was being a stewardess and flying. Today I am more afraid to fly than not, but I wasn’t afraid as a child. I was enthralled by the glamour that followed that job around. I can picture a blue dress and a matching nurse’s style cap, a small, triangular purse. I had wings from that first trip, which are since lost and we had a blue tote bag with a shoulder strap that said Pan Am on the side. It had two large pockets and zippers and since then (and probably before) I have a fondness for all kinds of bags, wallets, purses, and travel things.

But I digress.

Happy Birthday Baby

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Happy Birthday Baby

Today is my baby’s birthday. She turned 8. She chooses her own clothes and today’s was a black tulle straight line dress with gold sparkly stars, black leggings, neon rainbow striped socks and a rainbow leopard print headband. And she pulls it off.

Target had half price girls’ clothes, so her birthday presents were more fashion statements. For Christmas we gave her a fashion design sketchbook, and she loved it. I think she sees a future career.

Today was also my weekly RCIA class and the Mass was the Epiphany Mass. It was a very musical Mass with the Three Kings giving their gifts to the Christ child. There were also refreshments and social time in the gathering space. If I don’t know people, they just randomly introduce themselves to me. It seems as though everyone knows me since I’m the only RCIA candidate this year and I know next to no one. Next week the Christmas season ends with the baptism of Christ.

I really love the program. I have not only learned so much, but it’s validated things I’ve always felt, but couldn’t put my finger on or figure out where I believed them from.

It’s very satisfying to find that my current state matches the mismatch that I’ve always felt in my life. Perhaps there was no other time when I was willing to listen until now.

The kids (finally!) go back to school tomorrow if the weather holds out. I plan to clear out the piles of paper in my corner office (so called because it’s literally in the corner of my living room). I have some plans to edit and publish (post) some of the pieces I wrote in November plus post the small ones that I did as part of an Advent Online writing retreat. (I’ll link you to the website when I post them.)

I’ve said it before, so I apologize for the redundancy but I’m feeling good about this year’s prospects for my writing.

Still feeling my way around this 365 project. I’m not sure if it’s going to be this – journaling about my day, maybe a small to-do or to-write list to give me some incentive to sit down and do it so it can be posted.

I also realize that the more I write, the better I’ll get and the more consistent I am will also give me a voice; my voice. I think that’s what I’m looking for: my voice.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

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It is 2014, and we are in the midst of a snowstorm. I got a text this morning that the schools were closed due to weather. Good thing the schools were already closed due to Christmas vacation. Maybe they were testing the system out.

I can feel things already this year. It’s only a day old and I feel better than I did last January 2nd.

I count New Year’s Eve as a small part of 2014, so I was pleased to talk to my friends who gathered at my best friend’s house for their New Year’s celebration while I was five states away with my family. I have to say I would have liked to have been actively loved, but I did enjoy getting accidentally called while they were singing Carry On Wayward Son. I will say again here that WK made me cry in the good way and I will hold her words in my heart all of this year. I was able to have my closest friends and my family close by for the last day and the first day of the year and that is a good feeling.

I’m starting my good news or something jar with slips of paper. I already have a slip in there.

I’m also starting a daily bloggy/journal thingy. Very late on the 31st I posted a quotation: “Tomorrow is the first blank page of a 365 page book. Write a good one.”

I’ve decided to post something, probably short daily and tagged with 365 and then I’ll see what I’ve got at the end of the year.

I’m still working on resolutions, but they will be more like goals and hope-to-dos and I’m planning on more moments of self-accountability.

I plan to focus on three main writing topics in addition to whatever pops into my mind and my memoir workshops and fandom and they will be Depression, Faith and my House, more specifically my horrendous home-buying/mortgage experience. All of these are where my heart and mind always went to in my daily life and not only will talking about my experiences help my own therapy, I think that I can offer things to people suffering through depression with how I’ve been helped.

I’m looking forward to this year, and I haven’t felt that way in a very long, long time.

So, good tidings and blessings and happiness for the next 363 days and beyond that arbitrary calendar date.

KB