Well, here we are. Brand new year, and I’ve started it off soul searching… just like I have every year prior to this. I began writing an exceptional recollection of my awesome getaway with my husband just before Christmas (that is like many other projects… not done) and then started to dust off the novel and finish my rewrite in 3rd person (also not done). Then it happened. I fell off the wagon, and went to vitriolic websites that I know damn well I should NOT be browsing and got irritated enough to join the fray of meaningless bashing. Sometimes I just can’t help myself.
Now I could easily go back and continue to argue with someone incapable of reasoning… but I’m not. Then I told myself that at least I was writing. Funny how humans justify juvenile behavior to make themselves feel better. The media frenzy surrounding a very personal topic for me (that shall forever remain nameless here) just got the better of me and I couldn’t take it anymore. I tried to interject reason, and was met with endless psychiatric profiles of my psyche by people who don’t even know me. Well…. SCREW. THEM. They don’t deserve my attention. And with that, I’m erasing this mishap from the history books and moving on….
I am reading a fabulous book. It’s called, The Dirty Life, by Kristin Kimball. It’s about a freelance writer in New York City that gave up everything she knew and entered the (then) foreign world of farming. She, along with her husband Mark, run a CSA in Essex, New York. The story of its birth and their relationship has warmed my heart and given me hope that a farm may some day find me (people who know me, know that I long for this). The mental exhaustion endured by my profession has taken a toll on my livelihood. I guess only I can change that.
Happy New Year!