Home Alone

This is really just going to be a record of my ongoing train of thoughts at the moment. I'm more than a bit disappointed in myself for not writing, and I don't just mean in my blogs, but in general. I really haven't been making the effort to write every day in my journal(s), despite the fact that I feel a lot less stressed out when I purge myself of my feelings. I also feel like I'm regressing in my ability to write well when I stop writing all together. I miss stringing together words and sentences. When I was writing regularly, I felt I had more purpose, even if no one was reading what I had to say. It may very well be that I'm sending my words out into cyberspace and very few people may be concerned with them, but I really do need to make a greater effort for my own improvement in what I feel is my craft.

Writing is the only thing I have ever felt innately gifted in. I forget that sometimes.

One of the real reasons I cherish and admire Joe so much is for his drive and devotion in his ability to create art. He draws every day and I have yet to see him lose passion for what he does. In fact, in the time that I have known him, his passion for his craft has only grown. I wish I had more of this quality in myself. I can't envy it though because he works for everything he has accomplished. You shouldn't envy someone's successes when you haven't put in the same amount of work.

I plan on getting back on track with the things I am most passionate about, and hopefully this will be the year to do it. I look forward to the good changes that are heading my way.