I promised myself in the new year that I would maintain diligence in my thinking and writing. Every day, I promised myself, would be for discovery and artistic rumination, culminating in a cornucopia of ideas for stories and prose. One year being forced to write a daily diary entry would seem to ingrain the kind of work ethic and routing that would make this easy as pie, right? Already a couple of weeks into the new year, I am behind - but definitely not out of it. With a new place to hang my hat and a new door on which to hang my name placard, I am finally off and running into a new life. And what a brilliant errand it is to make something out of nothing more than packing, moving, and starting a new job.
So, here I am, back at it again in the "real world" and wondering what this new year will bring in a world with which I have lost touch over the past six years. I am sprouting roots and experiencing the growing pains that comes with sprouting. In the meantime, I am slowly seeping into the transition process and letting the days do with me as they like. Because when the days are done with me, I will have my day - and the satisfaction that will come with my emergence should pay for all the frustrations I feel back in the "normal life". At least this is a start in the right direction.