Today I decided I want to be a writer. No, really. I've heard about it, I've lived in books, and I've tasted the tiniest touch of trying it myself only to find myself craving it completely. I want to tell stories, weave plots together, meet and walk with characters through all the crazy twists and turns. I want to escape into that world. I want to write.
And I'm scared. Of what?! Failing. Lack of stability? NO! Who are you kidding? That's part of the allure! Prideful? Maybe. Care that much about what others think? No, not really. I'm scared of letting down some lofty ideal that I don't even fully know I'm holding. Do you ever think about what the "little you" would have thought? Bounce ideas off of that bit of memory of what you thought when you were about 6? For me it goes something like Little Joy would want to climb that mountain. Little Joy would really admire such and such accomplishment or behavior. Little Joy would think that that would be really cool but that she could never really do that so I'm going to do it! Ridiculous, eh? I'm not sure. Little Joy always dreamed of being a writer but was too afraid to try. Now is the chance!
I also discovered today that I like drinking green tea with milk and honey. I'm only on.... oh... about my sixth glass so far today. :) I could never stand tea before which quite maddening. I wanted to like it. But it didn't work until today. I guess it's my overly romantic side. When one reads or writes one should always have a mug of coffee or tea nearby! (And since I utterly detest the taste of coffee, that left tea as my only option!) Solid roof overhead, steaming mug of tea, fully charged laptop, Irish Christmas music playing, and about nine lifetimes worth of dreams... what more could one ask for? Confidence? Alright, alright! I'm working on it! Can't have everything at once, right? ;)
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