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It’s a new year.
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Yes, I know that’s both an obvious statement and one that’s a bit overdue, as it’s been a new year for more than a week at this point. Almost two. Usually I’m a day-one, fresh-start, on-the-money kind of girl. Rip-roaring through my goal setting on January 1, stating them publicly, keeping track…you know the drill.

Last year was a tough year for me. I know I’ve said that already. Started off with a family suicide in February and went downhill from there. Every time I righted, I found myself thrown off balance again by some new tragedy, large or small. My life suffered. My writing suffered. My health suffered. My friends and family saw little of me. I withdrew into myself, trying to find some semblance of balance.

I have higher hopes for this year. Much higher hopes. I have goals too, but right now I’m focusing on the hopes. I’m sure tragedy will come–it always does–but I hope I will hande it better. Carry it more lightly. Keep returning to my writing and my loved ones as a way to sustain.

I hope. I hope. I hope.

Kiss kiss bang bang, s.


Fill your paper with the breathings of your heart.  ~William Wordsworth

ps — Cool image by blackfantastic

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