I’ve thought about my new year goal for some time. My new years resolution is to make time for my reading and writing again, despite how busy I can get. I’ve started to loose a bit of my passion along the way, somehow. With trying to keep everything, myself, and my little family grounded and taken care of, at the end of the day I can get so mentally and physically exhausted. Sometimes it’s just plain ol’ writer’s block. It’s especially hard when I have to do school work in my down times. Even passions require work and consistency. Reading and writing requires focus and concentration, which sometimes my mind wants nothing but to relax in silence of my senses when I get the chance. Just sit in silence and just breathe. But it’s all starting to catch up to me. A part of me is screaming at me to pick up a pen or book again or type on that keyboard. It’s been a part of me since I was little and I’ve neglected it. It started with reading Junie B Jones during class or required reading time which then became me sneak reading under the blanket in the middle of the night when I was supposed to be sleeping in efforts for my dad to not notice. (lol) That little child’s plastic purple toy locked diary turned into a notebook. Dr Seuss or Robert Frost turned into my own poetry or stories. And it’s been my solace, my escape, my way to speak without talking. To start it off, I’ve already wrote two poems, established a better plot with a story I’ve started but didn’t finish, bought myself a collection of poems by one my favorites, Pablo Neruda. And now I’ve got 4 new books to read thanks to my Father. (On a side note, my daughter loves books and it makes me super happy.) I need not to forget all the parts that make me who I am. Especially this part.