New year. New thoughts. All sorts of new. And I'm looking forward to it.
I could go on and on about all the shit that happened last year. The loss, the change, and the pain.
I choose not to.
Onwards and upwards, my lovelies.
My girls, while still maddening, are healthy. My personal relationship is a magnificent strength. I have a job that I love.
I have a book coming out in June. *smile*
So goals for this year?
I want to be healthier for one. And why in the blue hell does this have to be so hard??? Why don't celery sticks taste like burgers? We can clone animals but can't tweak some veggies to be palatable? Our resources are being wasted.
I want to finish at least two of the books of the five book series I've started. That means less FB and more sitting on my ass and writing one word after another.
I rattled off a cute little short story for the Honey the other day. It was over 1000 words.
This just shows me I'm squandering time and potential.
It's the last year of my thirties, you know. I turn thirty-nine next month. And while forty doesn't bother me in the least, it's a bit of a wake-up call.
There's no reset button. This is it.
Time to bend it to my will.