I’m starting on my new year’s resolution early. I’m a
writer. I love writing. I have a degree in writing. So why don’t I write? For
no good reason, that’s why. Therefore, I’m setting the goal to update my blog
once a week.
Writing has always been therapeutic for me, and I have a lot
to say, although I often keep it to myself for a number of different reasons.
Even when I was a kid, I used writing as a means of expressing myself. I
remember one time in particular when my older brother did something that
infuriated me. I don’t recall what; I think I was easily provoked as a child,
and perhaps I still am in some ways. All I remember is getting out my little
pink diary—the kind with the lock and the tiny keys that no girl under the age
of ten could possibly keep track of—and writing, I hate Stuart! I hate Stuart! I hate Stuart! What a little brat I
was! Of course, I never hated Stuart, as often as I allowed my emotions to get
the better of me. My point is that even then, I used writing as a means of
venting my thoughts and feelings. I suppose some things are better written than
vocalized. 
Aside from venting, I also find that writing helps me unscramble my thoughts. There is so much
going on in my head all at once, that I don’t know what to do with it all. And
then there are times when I can’t figure out the next sentence. I think this
mostly happens when I have been thinking so much—usually about life—that I get
overwhelmed, and my brain just shuts down altogether before it overheats or
explodes. Call it a defense mechanism.
Speaking of life, I’ve been doing a lot of soul searching
lately, as I am wont to do, and I have determined a few things. One is that I
am no longer twenty-five. It didn’t take long to determine that. However, I
still hope to make something of myself, so I think the original twenty-five
spirit of this blog can continue into my twenty-sixth year and beyond.
…
Actually, my age is pretty much all that is certain right
now, so maybe I haven’t determined that much after all.
Stay tuned.
