This I Believe

Okay, so, as usual it's been forever since I've posted here. I feel like a broken record, because it seems that every post starts out that way. Perhaps this will improve but knowing me there is an excellent chance it won't.

Anyway, back to the current blog...on Sunday my book club met at Baker's Square (yay! pie!) for our meeting, to discuss "This I Believe," which is a book that stemmed from an NPR radio show of the same name. The book consisted of a collection of essays from both every day and famous people, all saying what it was they believed in. The essays could be about anything, obviously, but they all followed a general format. Keep it short, sweet, and to the point, and mainly focus on one core belief. As a result of reading this book, I decided (along with some of my fellow book-clubbers) to try my hand at my own "This I Believe" essay. I'm going to be honest and let you know--I did not follow the rules exactly as they were laid out. I have many beliefs and didn't feel like choosing just one at the time I wrote my essay. So mine kind of combines them all. Maybe one day soon I will make another attempt and actually follow the essay-writing rules. But for today, I am going to share with you the essay that I wrote and shared (out loud, in the middle of Baker's Square) at book club.


This I Believe

I believe in music. I believe in the freedom music brings, and the power it has to unite. No one can live without music, and few things in life have the power to touch us at the level that music does. I believe that music can heal, and that the combination of melody and lyrics is one of the most magical, powerful things in existence.

I believe in the power of love, and even more in the power of friendship. I believe you can’t have love without friendship, and that friendship is one of the most valuable things in life. I believe in family, and in being there for them no matter what, just like you would like them to be there for you. And I believe that your best friends become your family. I believe dogs (and cats) are a man’s best friend, and life would be a lot more boring and a lot more lonely without them.

I believe in doing what you love, whether you can make a living from it or not. I believe that the things we love fulfill us, and make us better people. Taking time for doing the things we love makes us like ourselves more, and makes us grateful for our talents and the thing or things that no one can ever take from us. I believe in following your dreams, even when there are obstacles in your way. If you never try in the first place, you can never know if you will fail or succeed. I believe in making time for the things you’re most passionate about, and in not making excuses for why you can’t make that time.

I believe that you don’t need religion to be a good person. Doing good things makes you a good person, and treating others with kindness and respect. I believe in accepting other people and their differences of opinion and beliefs, and I hope that they can accept mine. I believe in discussion and I believe that if more people talked more and were more tolerant of others, a lot of conflict could be avoided in the world. I believe that religion should not give you an excuse to persecute others because they are different.

I believe in learning, always learning. Learning to better yourself, and learning to know and understand the world around you. I believe in being open-minded and listening to the other side, even if you don’t always agree with it. I believe you don’t have a right to disagree with something if you don’t understand it. I believe in the power of knowledge and the power of words, and the power that those things can have when combined. I believe in using that power for good, and for change.

I believe in words. I believe in their power, and in their responsibility. They are what we use to shape the world around us, to express ourselves, and to communicate with others. They are more powerful, beautiful, wondrous and potentially dangerous than we realize. Words can be used to profess love and to spread hate; to praise or condemn; to illuminate truth and to propagate a lie. There is no better feeling in the world to me than listening to a song or reading a book and hearing the words of another expressing your own feelings. Words are everything, used everywhere, and in ways that constantly remind us we are not alone.

I believe in being yourself and following your dreams, wherever they may lead.

What's important to you? What do YOU believe in? Let me know in the comments, and hopefully I'll return soon :-)

For the love of YA

Most people who know me know one major thing about me, because it so defines who I am. I love to read. I have always been a big reader, even more so than a writer, although the two have pretty much gone hand in hand over the years (I'd like to think I've become a better writer, of course. Please, don't ask to see my story about the talking turkey...). But as much as I love to write, and that is a part of me, I think I'm still more of a reader than anything. My tastes have obviously evolved over the years, but the voracity with which I read books has always been the same. I can remember, quite vividly, a summer during my grade school years during which I think I ready every single Babysitter's Club book that existed. I remember going through a book a day, and I couldn't get through them fast enough. I loved the special edition ones, where each chapter was written by a different girl--and even the handwriting of the letters was different so you KNEW it was someone new!

Okay, so I'm getting off topic a little...the point is, reading has always defined me as a person. I'm the girl who carries a book with her EVERYWHERE, because you never know when you might have a few minutes of time to kill. I read on my lunch breaks, before I go to bed, whenever I have a few minutes of free time. I can be just as happy reading a book as watching TV, sometimes much happier. And I read everything. I can do a sappy Nicholas Sparks love story one day, and then as soon as I finish that move on to a twisted murder mystery like In the Woods by Tana French. I read current stuff, I read classics, and I LOVE Young Adult fiction. This is something else that most of my friends are very aware of.

Maybe it's because I wanted to be a teacher, and so had to expose myself to books my students would be reading, although I don't know if that's really true. The fact of the matter is, with all the reading I do, some of the most satisfying characters and stories come out of YA authors and books. Read anything by David Levithan and tell me there isn't as much depth and emotion there than whatever adult fiction book is at the top of the best seller list. I'd actually bet you there is significantly more. Read Anna and the French Kiss by Stephanie Perkins, and name me another book that has such well-written, real characters. I think you'd be hard pressed to find some.

The reason that I'm bringing this up now is that YA has come under fire this week, thanks to this article by Meghan Cox Gurdon in the Wall Street Journal. When I read this, I can't even tell you how angry it made me. As someone who reads YA all of the time, I was appalled by some of the statements made in this article. For starters, not all contemporary teen fiction is dark, not by a long shot. Sarah Dessen is a great example of a YA author who writes fantastic novels for teens that are by no means dark, but that do deal with the fears and struggles of teen girls. Let's be honest for a second here: The teenage years are not fun for most of us. They're confusing, and scary, and hard. It's a time rife with insecurities and discovering who you are and what you want out of your life. Where you fit in compared to the people around you. It's a time of self-discovery, and it's a very bumpy road. Everything is SO important to teenagers. Every setback feels like the end of the world, and every success is magnified as well. I think our adolescent years are a time that most of us remember vividly, no matter how distant we get from them in age. Everything was just so important during that time. Friendships seemed more powerful, love was new, and intense, and so many changes were occurring.

Great YA writers capture those experiences that almost all teenagers go through, giving teenagers something to relate to, as well giving adults a view of the time most of them still remember so well. Even YA books that focus on werewolves or vampires can deal with adolescent fears and anxieties successfully. It's about the journey that the main characters goes through, and the growth they have experienced by the end of the story that is important. It's those elements that make a character relatable and real.

Gurdon speaks a lot in her article about how so much teen fiction depicts dark things like rape, homosexuality, violence, and self-mutilation, and how these are not topics we should be exposing to our children. The truth is, though, that teens experience these things in the real world. We live in a violent world, where dark things happen. If anything, I think topics like these make books more real to the reader, especially depending on the teen's own background. One thing that I think most people have in common--both teens and adults--is the fact that they want to believe there are other people out there like them. One of the greatest feelings in the world is when I read something in a book that could have been written by me, it's so true to the way I feel. It's books like these that make us feel we are not alone in the world, no matter how much we may feel like we are sometimes. And teens who have had to deal with dark, violent things in their own pasts can seek some refuge in certain books, knowing that they really aren't alone, and they can overcome.

I am not by any means saying that all teen fiction is fantastic. Of course it's not. There's plenty of smut out there in the YA world, just like there is in the adult fiction world. There are books that exploit sensitive subjects just for the sake of shock value, or that use vulgar language just because they can, not because it adds anything to the book. But there are so many more out there that are worth reading. One of the most challenged books as of late is the Hunger Games trilogy by Suzanne Collins. I, for one, think these books are phenomenal. I recommend them to just about everyone I know, and have bought the trilogy as gifts for friends. Is there violence? Absolutely. Are there sensitive topics addressed? Sure. But isn't that what books are all about? Addressing the sensitive things that happen in the world around us, and sending us a message? The fact of the matter is that Katniss in the Hunger Games is an astoundingly strong, and also very real, female protagonist. Do kids her age find themselves in her position in real life? Probably not. But that's not the point. The point is the journey. The point is what Katniss discovers about herself, and the world around her. It's how she learns where she fits, and what is important to her, and what sacrifices she has to make for the things she loves. It angers and saddens me that anyone would feel that a message and a story so beautiful should not be accessible to teens or anyone else.

Books serve as a window into worlds other than ours. Sometimes they serve as an escape, and sometimes they can even act as a mirror, helping us to shed light on ourselves as we read. While I am someone who thinks that books can affect us profoundly, and even in extraordinary circumstances change us forever, I do not feel that someone reading a book that is violent will send a message that violence is a good thing. I do not feel that hiding dark material from kids will help them in the long run. I do think that parents should know what their kids are reading, and should discuss things with them. I think this will only make our kids stronger, and more aware of the world around them.

In her article, Gurdon writes about how novels like The Outsiders by SE Hinton created an industry of fiction for teenagers, and she clearly thinks this is a bad thing. We don't want to show unhappy teenagers more unhappy teenagers that they can relate to on some level! We can't have unhappy endings, even though life has plenty of them! All I have to say to that is, I wish there was more YA when I was actually a teenager. I think if there had been, there would have been times I felt much less alone. Even now, when I'm reading a great YA book, sometimes I'll sit back and go "that was ME in high school!" Being a teenager can be so lonely and scary, and I think it helps to have something to turn to and know that you're not the only one feeling scared and alone, and you will make it through.

I know this post has gotten probably disgustingly long, and I apologize in advance for any repetition or rambling that occurred. I just feel so strongly about this topic, and wish that the YA genre got more credit for being as fantastic as it is. Some of the best writers out there are writing YA right now, telling extremely powerful, honest, wonderful stories. If you'd like some recommendations, you can always come here for them :)

As I sign off, I'm going to leave you with this, an article written by Sherman Alexie, author of The Absolute True Diary of a Part-Time Indian, which is also one of the top 10 challenged books right now. It's a wonderful response to the Wall Street Journal Article linked above.

And with that, I am off to bed. Please, feel free to comment and let me know where you stand on the debate. I'm interested to know, even if you don't agree.

"Concrete Jungle Where Dreams are Made Of..." Oh yeah, and books too!

Soooo, it has definitely been awhile. I know, I always seem to start my posts out that way, don't I? That's because I'm a slacker. There's no denying that. Add to that the fact that life has been busy, and I have been lazy. I can't even really tell you where the first half of this year has gone. I feel like it's been a whirlwind, with the last week of my life being the most whirlwind-like of all. So I suppose I will start there.

I just got back today from my trip to New York for the Book Expo of America, which I attended with Stephanie. We flew in

to Boston, which I have to admit...I loved IMMEDIATELY. No joke. I fell in love with Boston so quickly, and the love only grew as we wandered around. Granted, Steph and I are both extremely directionally challenged, which presented problems at various times throughout the week as a whole. But that did not keep me from loving Boston. The Freedom Trail and I became great friends, if only because if I followed it there was a good chance it would eventually lead me to one of the places I hoped to get to. It was cold in Boston, and we froze our asses off at Fenway that night at the Red Sox/Cubs game. But it was totally worth it. I decided that if I ever leave the Chicagoland area to move to anywhere else in the contiguous US (which is doubtful, because let's face it, how could I leave this places where everyone I love is???), it would absolutely be to go to Boston or somewhere close to it. I could gush more, but perhaps I'll save that for later.

After Boston, we were off to New York. After a 4 hour train ride. Yes, 4 hours. It went surprisingly fast, though, and we soon found ourselves right smack dab in the middle of Manhattan in search of our hotel. My first reaction to New York City? I hated it. I didn't get it. Really. I absolutely did not see the appeal of New York over my beloved Chicago. It was dirty, super crowded, and garbage is EVERYWHERE. After the trip to New York, I have to say I have a newfound appreciation for the alleys of Chicago. They serve a great service to the public, as they prevent us from having to walk down streets piled high with garbage bags. Ick.

Despite my initial hatred of NYC, I have to say by the end of the trip, I had warmed up to it quite a bit. I think one of the turning points for me, besides realizing I was actually capable of navigating New York fairly independently, was probably heading to the World Trade Center. There was something about being there, where this horrific tragedy had occurred, seeing the new towers being built, that was just incredible. I clearly remember where I was and what my first reactions were upon hearing the news on Sept 11--as just about everyone else does--and to be there at the site of it was just...I don't know if I even have words. I had a really hard time going through the memorial museum, but I am so glad I did it.

As for BEA, the entire reason Stephanie and I went to New York in the first place, I have to say, it was pretty am

azing. I got to meet so many amazing authors, was able to bring home an overabundance of books, and it was just such a great experience. It was really overwhelming at first, because it's SUCH a huge conference, with so many people. We spent the vast majority of our time there standing in lines waiting for a 2 second signature and hello from an author. And yet, it was still completely worth it. I got to meet Sarah Dessen (dream come true!), Ann M. Martin (SERIOUS dream come true!), David Levithan (swoon!), and even crazy Theresa Giudice from Real Housewives of NJ. I was exposed to new authors for the first time, and in addition to getting to meet them, I also met some other awesome people while standing in line. It was really a great experience, to be around so many other people who LOVE books so much. Like one of the speakers at one of the author breakfasts said, it is so rare to get that many book lovers in one room. It seems like we become more of a rare breed every day, which is sad. So it was great to be around people like that. There were some crazies we ran into as well, but you get those everywhere. What can you do?

One of the things that came out of the trip for me was the feeling that being involved with reading and writing is really, REALLY what I want to do. There were moments when I envisioned myself

behind one of the signing tables. A day like that, if it ever happens, is probably incredibly far off, but I still daydreamed a little. It would be such a dream come true to be a part of that experience from a different angle. I want to be a part of the YA mafia! Of course, that would require me writing a book first. Still working on that one. Should get back to that maybe, eh? Another thing that I thought about as a result of the conference was starting a separate book review blog. God knows I read enough of them, reviewing them might just come naturally. Thoughts? If I started a book blog, would any of you read it? Let me know what you think...

For now, I'm off. I have tons of trashy TV to catch up on after being gone (like the Glee finale!), as well as unpacking to do. I have an entire suitcase of books (literally) that I somehow have to find room for on my already filled-t0-capacity bookshelves. I think Patrick might kill me. Oh well! It's like book he

aven for me, room or not!

"Writing is a socially acceptable form of schizophrenia." - E.L. Doctorow

Okay, so here's the honest truth: Since the last time I updated here I have done no writing. I am failing in my mission to be a better, more consistent writer. I know I say this every time, but I am doing worse than ever lately. I need to find a way to get myself motivated, but I don't know what strategy would work to accomplish that. The ironic thing is, for awhile I've felt just kind of out of whack, or like something is missing. And I think that if I was making the effort to write regularly that that feeling would at least in part go away. I just feel like there are always a million other things going on in my life at any given time that are more urgent to get done. Or sometimes I come home and finally have a day or evening where I have the house to myself and I can just sit down on the couch and watch whatever I want on TV. Is this productive? Absolutely not. Is it fun? I think so.

I have been doing a lot of reading. With the early bedtimes that I've been trying (and usually, to at least some extent, failing) to enforce due to the new job schedule, I do a lot more reading before going to sleep. But, while it's creative in another way and is tons of fun, it does not equate to writing. So...any suggestions for how to keep myself motivated and force myself to write? I do best when other people are pushing me or expecting me to finish things by a certain time, but I know that I can't depend on others to do that for me. I'm an adult and should keep myself motivated on my own. I guess that's just something I'm going to have to work on.

In the meantime...I am going to steal something that a good friend of mine did on her blog, and actually put something I've written out there for everyone to read. It was a short story that I wrote, and for a little while was on a webzine for women. I just thought that, since most of my posts are about writing, that it is only fair that I share some of my writing with those people that read here. It's always a scary thing to share my work, just because writing is so personal. I always feel shy and nervous when I let someone read my creative writing, because it's like sharing a piece of myself that you wouldn't see otherwise. It makes me feel exposed. And yet, if I ever hope to be a published author one day (you know, if I actually ever finish WRITING anything...) then I have to be willing to expose myself in that way. So, without further ado...here is my short story :)

She and Him

She sat at the island in the kitchen, talking with his mother and sister. They had a lot of catching up to do; it had been years since she had seen any of them. As they talked, he walked into the room, greeting his family as he placed the sandwiches he had brought home from work on the counter. There was a quick nod in her direction, but no other acknowledgment of her presence. He sat down at the table behind her and exchanged tales of the day’s events with his mother and sister. His family tried to ease the obvious tension, all smiles and easy conversation, though you could see the wheels turning in their heads, trying to figure out what was going on.

She had no idea herself. He was acting like a stranger, only worse. His coldness towards her was clearly deliberate. A stranger wouldn’t seem so foreign and familiar at the same time. Her heart thumped an uneven rhythm, and she realized she had been on edge since she had arrived, waiting for this moment. She had thought it would be different. It had been a long time since they had seen each other, but still, she had thought it would be different. That he would be excited to see her too. That he would at least be friendly to her. Yes, it had been a long time, but they had been so close once.

A lump formed in her throat and she could feel tears stinging behind her eyes, but she forced a smile onto her face and continued to converse with his mother. His sister had taken her sandwich and disappeared—maybe the tension had become too much for her. He stayed in the room, but only entered the conversation when absolutely necessary, responding with a short answer and a sharp tone. She couldn’t keep from sneaking glances at him as they all talked. He was looking at her, but his blue eyes were like ice, and they matched the frost she heard in his voice. It was all too much for her. This was not the boy she once knew; this was not what she had expected when she decided to come here.

She realized she needed to leave. He obviously didn’t want her here, and it was clear his mother didn’t understand his behavior any more than she did. She stood up, hugging his mother and saying goodbye. She grabbed her purse off the counter, and slung it onto her shoulder, turning around to say goodbye to him before she turned towards the door to leave. As she opened the back door, his mother suggested he walk her out and say goodbye.

She had already stepped outside, but she heard him behind her, and so she turned around, feeling awkward now, and unsure of herself. She stared at him, standing in the doorway, his body illuminated in the yellow glow of the kitchen light. He stared back at her, but neither of them said a word. The lump was still in her throat, and she tried to swallow it down, in order to say something to him before she left. Finally, she got her voice to work, cracking a little as she whispered to him.

“Can I at least have a hug?” she asked, realizing now that whatever they had once had was gone. This hug would probably be the last goodbye, and she would have to end their chapter in her life once and for all.

She saw him move forward, and she was surprised that he was actually going to grant her request. Instead of hugging her, though, he wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her to him until her body was pressed against his. Before she even had time to process what was happening, he pressed his mouth to hers, his strong arms still wrapped around her. He kissed her so deeply and with such passion that she could feel her body melting into his, could feel her lips burn with the heat of his, the warmth spreading throughout her entire body.

She knew what was happening was wrong; they shouldn’t be doing this. And yet, nothing had ever felt more right. It felt as though all their years of knowing one another, all the secrets shared and promises made, had led right to this moment. She opened her eyes, wanting to see if this was really happening. She was sure she was imagining it. When she opened her eyes, she saw the face she knew so well, even after all this time. It was him, and it was her, and it was real.

When they finally pulled away from one another, she stared into his eyes for a moment. The ice there had melted away, and now they were that peaceful blue she remembered. He was the man she knew again. Staring into his face, and seeing him stare back at her, she understood his behavior before. Of course he felt the same way she did, but he had been trying to ignore it, to distance himself. He had tried to keep his true feelings from showing, just like she had. His cold demeanor was the only way he knew how to keep her at a distance.

As they sat with each other without speaking, they both realized that whatever it was that the two of them shared, time could not make it go away. This bond, this connection they shared was stronger than either of them. Finally, she separated herself from him, taking a step back and wiping the tears that had started to escape from her eyes. She knew she had to leave, and she knew that he knew it too. After all, that was why he had tried so hard to keep his distance from her, wasn’t it? She shouldn’t have asked for that hug; it was only going to make leaving harder now. But they both knew she couldn’t stay. Their lives, their paths were not the same anymore. They both belonged to other people, had other responsibilities.

He wiped the tears from her cheeks and gave her a tight hug. This was goodbye, and this was for good. They both knew it. She could see tears begin to cloud his eyes as she turned to go. She had to go back to her life and leave him to his. But maybe that was okay. Yes, it was hard, but today she had realized that nothing would ever erase them. A part of each of them would always belong to each other, and she thought maybe that was enough.

She backed her car slowly out of the driveway, looking at his silhouette in the doorframe one last time before she drove away, back to the life that she had created for herself without him.

"She and Him" Copyright Janine Slayton 2008

Lazy Sundays

Well, it's officially been forever since my last update. That, added to the fact that my non-blog writing is going about as well as the blog updates are, shows that I am currently failing at my life's resolution. Time to pick things back up? I'd say so...

Unfortunately, I don't have any specific goal in mind for writing today. I just knew that it had been awhile, and that writing was in order. So, this may be slightly rambling and nonsensical (or at least moreso than usual) but I'm going to move forward anyway.

I'm sitting at home on a warm but slightly overcast Sunday afternoon, listening to Ryan Bingham (the cute genius behind the Crazy Heart theme song, in case you didn't know), uploading some CDs into itunes and feeling overall kind of...blah. It's one of those phases that will inevitably pass, but that has lingered for a few weeks now, for no particular reason. You would think the promise of Spring being just around the corner, and the few glimpses of it that have already appeared a few times now would help keep me upbeat, but it really hasn't. And again, I don't know that there is any particular explanation for it. Things at home are pretty good, family and friends are overall pretty good, work has been fine--there's really nothing to cause it. Despite that, though, I find myself feeling kind of disconnected from people and things from time to time. Having no reason for feeling that way doesn't really make it any easier to NOT feel that way, but I guess it's good to acknowledge it at least, right?

I know one thing that has been on my mind is my family. Over at my parents house, a war is being waged daily, and it's one that I can't seem to help make better. I hate seeing what they are going through every day, and knowing that there is nothing that I can say to make things better, or provide a wake up call for the situation. All I can do is kind of be here. It's just been extremely frustrating to know there's really nothing that I can do, and that my stepping in or saying certain things that I would like to won't make the situation any better.

Anyway...on a more positive note...my trip to New York is getting closer everyday! It's crazy, because it feels like Stephanie and I have been talking about this trip for SO long, that I can't believe it's finally actually so close. Our agenda seems to get larger every day, and I owe Steph in a MAJOR way for being the one who has taken care of all of the bookings and practical parts of the trip so far. Part of me feels guilty for going on such an indulgent trip, especially when Patrick will be at home and we haven't actually gone on a trip like this together ourselves yet, even. And since I know the money could be going to bills and things more practical. But at the same time, I know it's a GREAT opportunity, one which I've never allowed myself before, and Steph and I will have tons of fun. I've been busy trying to read everything I can by authors I haven't read before, so if I meet them during the trip I will actually know what they've written. All the reading might be something contributing to the lack of writing on my part, now that I think of it... I'm just really excited about the whole trip.

I wish I more exciting or thought-provoking things to write about, but it's just not there today. I think I'm going to wrap this up now, rather than rambling on more about nothing at all. I just wanted to show you all that I do still exist, and while I've been slacking, the blog is not forgotten!

Sharing the love...and a day in the life!

Hey all! I know, I've been scarce lately. And I apologize dearly for that. While I hope to have a normal post update soon, I had to stop in to point you over in the direction of my old friend Annie's blog, http://tinyflecksofcolor.blogspot.com.

Annie and I go way back, and I'm a regular reader of her blog, which I think is beautiful and awesome. She chose, in celebration of her blog's one year "blogiversary," to showcase a series of guest posters, with the them "A Day In the Life." I was honored to be chosen as one of those guest posters, and my contribution is showcased over there. So please, check it out, comment, and check out the rest of Annie's posts, because she's a pretty awesome lady!

Thanks guys, and more to come soon...Promise!

Simple Woman's Daybook - #1

Okay, so...I haven't posted for awhile. Between being sick and working I have definitely been a slacker. No excuses or anything. However...my friend Annie, whose blog I read regularly, started this awesome thing that I have decided I am going to steal from her. I'm going to try to do this once a week, I'm thinking on Fridays as they're kind of the end of the week (the workweek at least), and as good a time as any for reflection. Sometimes it's nice working off a guide to arrange your thoughts and force you to think about

things, too. So, thanks to Annie and http://thesimplewomansdaybook.blogspot.com/, here goes my first

Simple Woman's Daybook entry, with a more traditional entry to come soon (I hope).

FOR TODAY
Outside my window...the world is quiet, because...let's face it: It's still cold outside

I am thinking... about how I'm glad it's Friday, and glad it's the weekend and that Patrick is home for the entire weekend too, a definite rarity

I am thankful for... Fabulously well-written books that I can't put down, like Anna and the French Kiss by Stephanie Perkins. It's rare to find a book that I loved as much as that one, and I'm thankful for Stephanie recommending it to me and for books like it existing in this world.

From the kitchen... I wish I could report more activity in the kitchen, but alas I haven't cooked since Sunday night. And some of the dishes still remain. Yeah, I'm a slacker.

I am wearing... black sweatpants, the black sweater shirt I wore to work today, and my music note hoodie. Warm and comfy :)

I am creating... not as much as I'd like to be. Perhaps some writing is in order for this weekend? Good news is at least I've been thinking about what I'm going to write. That's got to count for something, I hope.

I am going... to Naperville tomorrow to see my mother-in-law in a play. I'm excited!

I am reading... In the Woods by Tana French. It's very interesting, and very good so far. Definitely one that keeps you thinking. And it's got an element of mystery, which I d

on't usually enjoy, but is keeping me interested this time around.

I am hoping... to make my dreams come true. But first, to determine exactly what those dreams are :)

I am hearing... Patrick playing a video game downstairs and the hum of the computer next to me. Not too exciting, I know.

Around the house... It's time to clean. Again. Why can't houses just keep themselves clean? Do you think I can teach the cat to be housekeeper? I think he should start earning his keep somehow...

One of my favorite things... This week, it's the discovery of Vlogbrothers. It made me love John Green more than ever. Check it out: http://www.youtube.com/vlogbrothers. You will love it, I promise!

A few plans for the rest of the week: going to see "My Occasional Torment" tomorrow night. Hanging out at the parents' with the husband on Sunday afternoon. And possibly fitting an oil change in somewhere along the way.

Here is picture for thought I am sharing...

"Its a big ball of wibbly, wobbly, timey, wimey stuff"**

Let's see, let's see, how to start today's blog? You know, I noticed today, not for the first time, that my writing process is not really ideal. Often, when I decide to write, it's early in the day, like when I'm at work. It's in some place that I am not physically capable of posting a blog entry or adding a new chapter or whatever the case may be at that particular moment in time. And yet the desire to write stays with me all day. At work, in my car, in the shower, I'm thinking of all these great things to write about, what I want to say, some message I want to get across. And then finally comes the moment when I get to actually sit down to write and...all of those awesome words are gone. Maybe this means they only seemed awesome in my head? Maybe it means I need a better system of jotting down notes throughout the day? I don't know, but regardless...it can really be a pain in the ass sometimes. And it's not what this blog is going to be about today. At least, that's not my intention. So let's try again...

We are now a full week into February. And what a week it's been. Snowmageddon 2011 hit in full blast right as February rolled in and a week later I still don't quite feel recovered from it. Especially not with more big, fat snowflakes floating down outside my window as I write this. Anyway, now that we're into February, post-Superbowl, pre-Valentine's Day, the New Year seems like it was rung in so long ago. I've noticed with my friends and family, those New Year's Resolutions they were so adamant about keeping have become much less important now that that New Year Optimism has kind of faded. Not that this is anything unusual. It's kind of part of the routine of things every year. I've been guilty of it myself pretty much every year. But still, I think it's kind of sad. Because sometimes it seems that it's not just the resolution fading, but the motivation to stride towards something greater for yourself. I know that's been the case with me. I want so much for myself but sometimes I'm great at talking myself out of doing what I need to do to achieve it.

I know that my own attitude since the new year has changed somewhat in the last month, at least as far as my resolution and goals are concerned. In retrospect, I think saying that I would write every single day was a little bit lofty of a goal for myself. Especially when I take into account the fact that two days of the work I leave the house before 7am and don't get home until almost 11 at night. While I'd love to be able to say that there's time to fit writing in there, there really usually isn't. And as much as I'd like to find the time for it in those busy days, the only thing I can usually think of by the time I get home is going to bed so I can face the early morning that awaits. So saying I would write every single day was kind of setting myself up for failure from the starting gate. But that being said, my goal for the year remains pretty much the same. I want to write. I want to do it regularly, and I don't want to let it fall by the wayside like I know I've done in the past. It means too much to me to just give that up, and the older I'm getting the more I'm realizing that, wherever my life and career takes me, however off-course or unexpected the path may turn, I can't lose that part of myself. So no, I might not write every single day, but as long as I can keep writing regularly, both here and on my own personal project, I can feel like I am accomplishing something and being true to myself.

On a slightly unrelated note (although in my jumbled head they are connected) I realized today, again not for the first time, that I really need to work on certain areas in my life that I hold bitterness and resentment. There are certain people and things in my life that, when I encounter them, have a tendency to elicit a very negative reaction from me very quickly. I don't want to be angry or bitter, because I know it's not healthy. And yet, at the same time, some of those feelings are what push me to achieve things for myself. Which I know is also not healthy. Anyone have any ideas on how to work on this? Sometimes I think I should take up meditation or something, but 1) I don't think I have the patience for that, and 2) Who really needs mediation when there's Glee? I don't know how I'm going to work on this, but hopefully I'll find a way because life's too short to be angry like that, right?

Finally, on a COMPLETELY unrelated note...while I know what I am about to say skyrockets my nerd-dom to new limits, I have to say one of my latest obsessions is the show Dr. Who. It really is a good show, but even more than that, it led me to discover the absolute wonder that is David Tennant. I honestly adore him, more than I think any other actor, at least in recent days that I can think of. And when I say I adore him, I don't mean in the same way I adore Tim Riggins or Zac Efron, or even the very talented (in my eyes at least) Ryan Gosling. Watching him on Dr. Who has put me in complete awe of his talent, honestly. I have never been so amazed and impressed by an actor ever. He is able to convey so many emotions so well, and often at the same time, that it's just incredible. While I know any of you who do happen to read this blog are probably shaking your heads and laughing at me and will NOT do what I suggest next, I'm going to say it anyway. PLEASE watch the show. Yes, it's sci-fi. And yes, some of the sci-fi stuff can be over the top. I'm not going to lie about that. But it's so worth it just to watch him in action. Don't bother with the first season. Start at least with the second and if you want some REALLY awesome stuff, just check something out from season 3, which was pretty much golden. Please, just ONE episode. I'll even recommend a specific one for you if you'd like!

Anyway, enough of my plug for the day. Signing off for today, but not forever. Because even if no one reads this, that's okay---I'm going to keep writing, just for me. Anyone who IS reading this...I love you, and hopefully I don't bore you too much!

**Title quote taken from--what else?--Dr. Who! Kind of a good description of life, though, don't you think?

And I'm feelin' good...

Well, I have to say, I feel like I've been pretty productive today, for once. For the last few days, actually, I've been proud of myself. I managed to finally go grocery shopping on Saturday which meant Patrick and I have food in the house for the first time in a LONG time. As a result, I was actually able to cook dinner 3 whole night in a row. Did you see that? I said THREE!! And I was the one who cooked! That in and of itself was miraculous, if you know me at all. Granted, the meals I prepared were nothing too mind-blowing or fancy. But they were cooked by me, which is a big deal. I also discovered while making dinner on the 3rd night that Ore Ida Sweet Potato Fries are AWESOME. I mean it. I like them better than regular frozen fries. They rocked. And since they're made with sweet potatoes they're totally healthier, right? I think so.

In other self-improvement news this week, I have managed to finally pull out my WiiFit Plus again, for the first time since I bought it a few weeks ago. Since I've bought it I've told myself almost every day that I will come home from work, turn it on and do something to work out. And of course, every day I would come home and then....not work out. I would watch TV with Patrick or go out with friends or do pretty much ANYTHING else. On Monday, though, I told myself that there would be no more excuses. I was going to come home, do something on the WiiFit, cook dinner, and then do whatever. And I actually kept that promise to myself. I came home, got the Wii turned on and put together a workout routine. I learned that I suck at yoga, especially when the palm tree pose resulted in my falling off the wii board and into our coffee table. But, as my animated trainer says, with practice my muscles will strengthen and I will hopefully not crash into living room furniture anymore while doing yoga poses! I don't know if she's right, but I guess I can keep it up anyway.

I continued my trend today, also. I came home from work and went straight to my Wii, started a new routine, and then moved on with my night. I always have all of these excuses for not having time for things, but you know why? Because I tell myself I don't have the time when I just dont' want to MAKE the time. I get so wrapped up in the hundred things that I need or want to do that I just get overwhelmed and don't usually do ANY of them.

I've also been writing. I'm not going to lie and say I've actually managed to write every day like I originally promised. I actually have written next to nothing on the book that I claim to want to finish so badly. This weekend, though, I saw something that I think really gave me the motivation I needed. The thing that motivated me probably motivated me for the wrong reason, but regardless it made me realize that I really need to start proving how important finishing the book is to me. Writing is the one thing in my life that I am really passionate about. It's not always obvious, though, because I'm such a huge procrastinator. And without deadlines and the outside pressure of having to finish something I have a tendency to push it to the wayside. Or surf facebook instead of actually writing what I want to. But the truth of it is, I write because I love it. Because I love words, and I love the meanings and ideas and stories that those words can create. I love the feeling of creating something on the page. Sure, it would be awesome if my writing could help me earn a living one day. That would be the dream, to be a professional author. But when it comes down to it, I write because I love it. And my main goal isn't to become the next JK Rowling or write the next best seller-turned movie. It's really just to finish a book, to prove to myself that I can accomplish that. And therefore, I will. Sunday night, I pulled out my laptop, opened my story and started writing. I didn't get all that far, but I wrote. Monday night, after my workout, dinner and some TV time with Patrick I got on the computer again. I only managed to write a couple of sentences before bed beckoned, but I wrote. And tonight, I sat down and actually felt like I accomplished something.

It's days like this that really make me feel good about things. Sure, my life isn't exactly where I expected it to be or where I want it to be, but that's okay. I still have time to get there, even though I often feel like I'm running out of time. But if I can make the time for the things and the people that I love, then that's all that matters. Tonight was a night of simple pleasures. Pizza for dinner, some Castle on TV, some writing...all things that I love. Add to that, I'm currently chatting with my one of my best friends, who I don't get to see or talk to nearly enough, and listening to Guster, who have accompanied my writing all night and definitely helped keep my mood up. Nights like this even almost make me forget some of the worst parts of the day and week, which I was originally going to mention here. But really, why bring things down with the negativity that is bound to resurface on its own before too long anyway? Life is too short to focus on the negative when we don't have to, and I'm sure I'll be reminded of it before too long.

Thank you, dear readers (whoever you are) for tuning in to my self-indulgence. Hopefully next time I'll come up with something less ego-centric to write about. For now, bed is calling and a double awaits me for tomorrow. Good night!

Do you believe in magic?

I love words. No, really, I adore them. I mean, think about it; words are the way we express ourselves to others every day. Sure, we have body language and facial expressions that convey our emotions and meaning to people also, but it's really words that we depend on to get us through each day, to communicate and forge our way in the world around us. Whether through speech or song, or through the written word, there isn't a day that goes by that we don't use words to reach out to others, to get us the things we need, to express our needs and desires. Whether we put much thought into those words or not, we are constantly using them.

Being a huge reader and writer, I think that it's probably safe to say that from a very young age I've been in love with words. That love has only gotten stronger as I've gotten older and sought to express myself more adeptly through the words at my disposal. I really believe there is a kind of magic to words, and to the power that they have to make people feel, as well as to transform. Words can mean so many different things in different contexts. They serve so many purposes every day. They can be used to persuade, to forgive, to express love and sadness, to wound, to heal...so many things. The power and possibility of words is endless. I mean, truly. Every day, people use words to create new things that touch others, that change the world. Sure, action is important too. Without action to back up our words they would lose some of their power and meaning. But without words, how could we even take action?

As some of my friends already know (because they've heard me say it time and again, as happens when I obsess over things every now and then), one of my favorite authors is David Levithan. He wrote my favorite book, The Realm of Possibility (which, by the way, if you haven't read, you should. Now. Seriously, go out and find a copy and read immediately). The words in that book touched something deep within me. It's not a complicated book. It's not a thousand pages long with lots of big words. It's simple, and it's beautiful. And what makes it that beautiful and wonderful? The arrangement of the words on the page. How can anyone NOT find it amazing when a writer, using only words, can stir something deep within the soul of a reader? It's not like TV (which also uses words, of course, lots of them), which comes with a visual representation of the words being spoken. A book relies on the imagination of the reader. On the reader's interpretation of the words on the page, and the way those words and ideas relate to the reader personally. When a book makes us cry, or want to scream at a character, or laugh out loud, that's a testament to the power that words have. And to the meaning that they hold in our lives.

Some of the magic of words just comes from the way they feel rolling off your tongue. The way one word can conjure an image or a feeling immediately upon hearing or saying it. Some words just sound beautiful, don't they? How can you hear the word whimsical and not smile? It's a word that rolls off your tongue, almost floating off of it. Then there are words like livid and hate, words that sound as harsh as the feelings they convey. Sometimes a word really just sounds like what it is meant to represent. Concrete, for example, makes me think of something solid, dependable, unchanging. It just sounds reliable, doesn't it?

Now, I realize, that along with the great beauty that words hold, they can also be used to harm. Even in little ways. People use words every day, but many times don't even think about what they're saying. They don't think about the meanings behind their words, or the consequences of what they say. And just like words can bring people up, lift them and help them rise above things, they can also do so much damage. So much hatred is spread through words, which is sad. But it still attests to their power. They're one of the strongest weapons we have, and like any weapon, they can do great damage if wielded improperly.

So as I end this long and rambling blog, my love letter to words and all they do for me, with a request to anyone who might actually be reading this. Think about the words around you. Think about something you read or something you heard that affected you. A word, a sentence, a paragraph that changed your life. I think if you look hard enough you'll be able to think of one. They're magic for us all, not just for the writers out there.

I also leave you with an excerpt from David Levithan's newest book, "The Lover's Dictionary," which is an enormous testament to the power of words and the many meanings they can hold for all of us....

Acronymn, n.

I remember the first time you signed an email with SWAK. I didn't know what it meant. It sounded violent, like a slap connecting. SWAK! Batman knocking down the Riddler. SWAK! Cries of "Liar! Liar!" Tears. SWAK! So I wrote back: SWAK? And the next time you wrote, ten minutes later, you explained.

I loved the ridiculous image I got from that, of you leaning over your laptop, touching your lips gently to the screen, sealing your words to me before turning them into electricity. Now every time you SWAK me, the echo of that electricity remains.

"We are the movies and the movies are us"**

I forgot how good it is to sit down and watch a good movie. When Patrick and I first started dating, we were movie people, all the way. We watched movies all the time. I would recommend some to him, he would recommend some to me. In the early months of our relationship we spent hours upon hours hanging out, and watching movies. Somewhere along the line, though, we transitioned more from movie people to TV show people.

Honestly, I blame the full-force introduction of TV on DVD. Before TV shows were released on DVD to buy, you either watched the show and kept up with it when it was on TV or you didn't. But now, everything is on DVD. It's made it so much easier to watch shows that you normally wouldn't because you don't have enough time or DVR space. TV shows get and keep you invested, and since Patrick and I have been dating we've invested lots of time, energy, and money into our TV on DVD collection. For people with busy lives that just seem to keep getting busier, the idea of sitting down for a 40 minute episode of a TV show seems so much easier than sitting down and committing yourself to a 2 hour movie. I mean, after all, there are so many other things to do. Might as well give an hour of that time to TV instead of half an afternoon with a movie. Nevermind those TV shows that suck you in and keep you watching 4 episodes in a row...

Anyway, thanks to my addiction to the many, many shows on DVD that I try to keep up with I've been slacking on the movie-watching lately. I just don't keep up as well as I should with movies. We have Netflix, and while we do watch lots of stuff instantly through there, the DVDs we get mailed to us generally sit on the table in the living room for weeks at a time before we either watch the DVD or send it back because we just don't care whether we see it or not anymore.

But today, I made the time for my movies. Everybody's Fine was one of those Netflix movies sitting around the house. We've had it for weeks, and it's been sitting in the same spot in the living room for most of that time. Today, with a few hours to myself while Patrick was at work I finally decided I was going to watch it. I loved it. It made me cry. Multiple times. But it was a really good movie, and I think worth the two hours I spent watching it.

Later, when Patrick got home from work we got food and decided to watch The Town, which my brother let us borrow. It, also, was awesome. Well worth the time we spent watching it, and it actually let us spend some time together, sharing something. For longer than a 40-minute chunk of time. It was nice, and made me think, not for the first time, that we should make time for it more often.

Movies and TV are so different. I think part of the reason that Patrick and I, and so many other people, watch TV more these days is because it's being made better than ever before, and it's more available than ever before. With a TV show you have the time to get invested in a character, to see them grow and develop. It's like the novel of the cinematic world. A movie is more like the short story of film. You get a couple hours to get to know your characters and see where they end up. But when done well, those two hours can be magic, and you can get just invested in those characters and that story as you do in a TV show. That's how you know when a movie got it right.

My three passions in life, as anyone who knows me well could probably tell you, are movies/tv, music, and reading. Those are the things I do to unwind, how I like to spend my free time. And I think the reason that I love them so much is that they are all different windows into understanding human nature and all its facets. Those three things have so much in common, and yet are very different at the same time. But I love the way you can watch a tv show or movie, or listen to a song, or read a book and just get lost in the world that's been created. How you can find similarities to your life, even in worlds and characters so different from yourself and where you're from. These places that are created through art help us escape, but they also remind us we are not alone in the world. There's always someone out there who can relate to our lives, and I know it always makes me feel better when I see someone else express something that I feel is so unique to me to the world at large. It's in those moments that I really do realize that we're all connected, and that we all have a lot more in common than we usually realize. And the best art--in any form--not only lets us know we're not alone, but it makes us think about life, about the connections we've made, that we can make, the way we and others affect the world around us. It gives us something to talk about, and to think about.

This post has clearly gotten a little off topic. I've noticed that most of my posts have kind of done that. I start in one place and get sidetracked along the way. Maybe one of these days I'll get my thoughts gathered enough to form a coherent post that doesn't go off on tangents. Though if I can get those thoughts organized enough for anything, hopefully it will be to focus on the book I should be writing. With any luck, my daily writing for the next few days will focus on that since I've been ignoring it in favor of the blogs this week, clearly. So, to wrap this up and bring it back to where it started, I leave you with this: Find some time soon to sit down, take a couple of hours and get lost in the world of a good movie. Trust me, it's worth the time, and if the movie really is good, your mind and your mood with thank you!

**title quote from David Ansen

Growing Pains...

When I was younger, I never wanted to grow up. Don't get me wrong, I was okay with getting older, and gaining some of the more exciting responsibilities that came with that, like getting to go out with my friends without parental supervision, dating, things like that. But when I was younger, even into high school, I remember being terrified of getting older. The thought of having to leave my parents' house and live on my own somewhere was the scariest thing in the world to me. Whenever I would even think of that time, years down the road, when I would be expected to live on my own, without my parents to feed me and put a roof over my head, my heart would start to pound and I would get nervous. I just could not foresee a time when I would ever be ready for that, and capable of supporting myself in all the ways that grown-ups have to.

The funny thing about growing up, though, is that it happens so gradually that it makes even those terrifying moments, like leaving home for the first time, feel not as scary once they actually come around. Sure, when I went away to college it was pretty scary. Granted, I stayed close to home and knew my parents were only a short drive away if I needed them, but that first night in the dorm by myself was hard. I remember just sitting on my bed in the tiny little dorm room right after my parents left, wondering what to do with myself. How was I going to sleep here? How was I going to wake up here and do all of those every day things away from home? This wasn't home. I was extremely homesick that night, but yet somehow, I survived. Not only that night, but the next, and the next, and the next...I adjusted to life outside the home I had lived in for 20 years, and it ended up being easier than I thought it would be. I was capable of being independent, of getting where I needed to be and surviving my day without my family nearby.

The funny thing is, the younger me, the one that was so reluctant to grow up and move out, really didn't even know what things I should be afraid of. Now that I am a grown adult (even if I don't actually feel like one), living on my own, paying rent and bills and working full time to be able to pay that rent and those bills, I realize how hard it really is. I had every right to be scared of this day when I was younger. But when I was younger I had no idea what adult life would actually entail, aside from moving out. There are so many responsibilities that we have as adults, and I don't know that we're ever fully prepared for them. There is so much that goes into being a responsible adult, and dammit, it's hard. Looking back, I wish I could sometimes relive my younger years, free of any real responsibility. But at the same time, there are freedoms that being an adult brings that are worth it. Parts of growing up are fun, even if they bring with them some stress along the way.

The funny thing is, even though I am now 27(!) I still don't really feel like a mature adult. I wonder if this is the case with everyone? I mean, I have my own place, I'm married, I have a full-time job...those are all adult things. Things that should make me feel like I'm really grown up. And yet...I don't. Maybe it's because I feel like there is still so much I want to do, like go back to school. And thinking about how old I am now makes me feel like time is running out, even if it really isn't. Maybe it's also the idea that I have in my head that being an adult means you have to take things more seriously, or enjoy certain things less. But I still like to have fun, I still love my music, and I still tend to be extremely silly sometimes. And I don't ever want to let those parts of me go. I wonder, though, when will I be old enough to feel like I'm grown up? Because a part of me wonders if I will always feel like I'm younger than my age. Even though I am technically a grown-up, I still go to my parents all the time for things I have questions about, or if I've had a bad day. And granted, they're not the only people I go to for these things, but I always feel like they'll have the answer for me. They have since I was a kid after all.

I know by now this post has gotten pretty long, and I've rambled through a lot of it. But this is something I've dwelled on a lot recently. Maybe because I'm married now, and maybe because I've just started a new job. I don't know what the reason is. It is strange to think about the younger version of me, though, who was so terrified of being in the place that the grown-up me is right now. And if I had the chance to go back and talk to that younger version of myself, what would I tell her? Yeah, some parts of growing up are scary. But don't worry, it's not all bad, and you never really feel all that grown up after all anyway.

"It's a job that's never started that takes the longest to finish."

Well, here we are, on the 5th day of January. And this is my second blog entry. Despite the fact that on January 2, I said my goal was to write every day, I'm going to be honest. This is the second time that I have written anything non-work or facebook related since the 2nd. In other words, I have already failed at my goal. And while I have good excuses for not writing for the past two days--and they really are good, I swear!--the fact of the matter is I really could and should have made more of an effort. Am I disappointed in myself for not writing? Yes. But I'm not going to beat myself up for it. Because let's face it, there are going to be those days. I am, however, going to make a more conscious effort every day to try and make time. I have to!

The title quote of this blog is from J.R.R. Tolkien, famous author of The Hobbit and the Lord of the Rings trilogy. I have to say, it struck a chord with me, because it really is true. It's great to have an idea, and you can have every intention of taking that idea and doing something great with it. But until you get over yourself and your distractions and just START it, it's never going to get finished. I think sometimes it's fear that keeps us from moving forward, and sometimes it's just laziness. Either way, I've officially started this job and I'm seeing it through to the end.

Now, while my excuses for not writing are still excuses and don't really excuse my laziness, I'm going to lay them out anyway. Monday I went back to work, my first day back at the new job since right before Christmas. It was a good day, but it really is going to be difficult getting used to those early mornings (and more importantly, the early bedtimes) again. I haven't had to be up that early consistently since I was student teaching, and that was longer ago than I would like to admit. Upon getting home I collapsed on the couch with my wonderful husband and a few episodes of The Real Housewives of Beverly Hills before heading out to have "wine & whine" with two of my favorite girls. After all of the drama and hooplah that the holidays and time with family inevitably brings, us girls needed a night to vent and laugh and just relax. It was a night of great friends, great food, and great wine (yes! There's a wine I like! Oh, sparkling almond, how I love thee...). It was a great way to kick off the week, I have to say. It really was a great night, and by the time I got home I was so full and tired that I crashed pretty much right after I got home.

Tuesday I was awake nice and early again, and off to work. It was another good day there. I'm gradually learning and being taught new things, and it will be nice when I know enough of what to do on my own that I'm not constantly asking for the next thing to do. That's always the hardest part of a new job or a new anything, I think. Those awkward first weeks when you're the new kid on the block and you feel like you're never going to learn all of this new stuff that everyone else seems to know like the back of their hand. But you gotta do what you gotta do, and I'm making my way through.

After the day job (I have a day job now!!) I headed to the library for my shift there. While the library makes for some VERY long days for me a couple days a week, I can't imagine giving it up. Aside from the fact that I would potentially like to be a librarian one day if I ever get my butt in gear and actually get myself enrolled in a Master's program, I really just love it there. The people I work with are great, and being in a library is just fun. I'm constantly bringing books and CDs home just because they catch my eye as I check them in, and as a result I always have too much to read, but also always something to recommend. Say what you will about my slacker ways with writing, but I can honestly say I read every single day. I'm the nerd sitting and reading on their lunch break, and I ALWAYS have a book in my purse. So really, the library is a perfect place for me. And again, the people are great. I feel really lucky to have gotten the job at the library I'm at. My brother and other friends of mine that work in libraries like their jobs but also have people that they work with that make their jobs just a little less enjoyable. I really like just about everyone that I work with. I have FUN at that job, and it makes the long days that much more bearable and worth it.

So yeah, I know, regardless of the long days I need to keep my promise to myself and really make the effort to write every day. And I really will try, even if it means a quick blog entry or a paragraph or two during my lunch break. No matter how hard it is to turn Castle off after one episode or refrain from the latest episode of Celebrity Rehab, I really will try. But for now? Looks like this entry is over, and Torchwood, a warm bed, and a husband are awaiting me. Goodnight!

Back on the Wagon...

Well, I'm back. It looks like, with my last post, I managed to go for almost 2 years without posting anything. Which is pretty much my track record with journals and writing in general. I start out nice and strong, writing regularly, making myself proud, and then...fail. I really don't know what it is. Every time I have started a journal in my life I've started out strong. I set out to write something--anything--every day. And in the beginning, I do really well. I take the time out before bed or when I have a few free minutes and write, excited that I will have this time in my life documented, able to look back on in the future and see the me that existed at that time. But for some reason, after about a week or so the sense of urgency and determination that I had to write every day dwindles and I just stop writing. As much as I want to document my memories and my life to be able to look back on when I'm older, I just don't. Even when Patrick proposed and I was knee-deep in wedding planning and wedding thoughts and details and drama, I started that journal, kept it by my bedside and wrote in it for about a week or two before I gave up, again.

But alas, it is a new year and I'm going to try again. Granted, I'm not exactly off to the greatest start, seeing as how this is day 2 of the new year but only my first blog post. Apparently the procrastinator in me will never fade. It is important to me, though, that I keep myself writing. The writer in me is a part that I've always cherished, ever since I was 9 and writing stories about talking animals and Thankgivings gone awry thanks to rogue turkeys. And as an English major, it was easy to keep myself reading and writing while I was in school because it was pretty much required of me if I wanted to do well. And, being the overachiever that I am, I did want to do well. But once school ends and the writing isn't exactly required anymore, I've found that it's much harder to motivate myself to actually write. Reading is a piece of cake--I can pick up a book whenever, and always carry one with me. But writing really has been another story.

I feel like this year could be the fresh start I've been waiting for for awhile. There's a sense of optimism about this year that I've rarely felt in the past at the dawn of the new year. But really, it's already starting out to be a year of change. I'm married now, just started a new job, have a beautiful niece who I love to pieces, and wonderful friends who I might actually get to see more often now thanks to the new job. I feel like I'm finally at a point in my life where I might actually be able to reach for my goals more realistically. Go back to school, write the book that I started forever ago and have mostly halted progress on, and just enjoy life with my awesome husband, friends, and family.

So, while by now this post has surely gotten self-indulgent and long-winded (maybe that's why I've always given up in the manual journal? Hand cramps are a bitch) the moral of the story is this: The one concrete goal that I have for this year is to force the writer in me to actually write, and hopefully grow. Every day I hope to write something, whether here on this blog or in the novel that I've talked about finishing for about 2 years now. Either way, the only way to be a writer is to write. And damnit, I want to be a writer. So, even though I'm starting a day late, here's me kicking off the new year with a new goal. Hopefully I'll last longer than a week this time!