My sister and I, while eating at Cheesecake Factory one warm July evening right before my birthday, decided that this was going to be our year. She had just turned 42, and I was about to turn 24. It was a magical thing. We decided this would be the year that we would conquer our fears, put bad habits to rest, and make our lives beautiful.
That was 6 months ago, and I can't say that I have lived up to my end of the deal.
There are so many things I want to be able to do in my life. I want to cook more. I want to photograph my life, and keep memories and people alive. (Not just the memories of my clients.) I want to become a more kind, gracious being as I begin my journey into womanhood. I want to turn 25 and be happy with where I am in the world.
I love to write. I have always known I would write a book at some point in my life, and I have always kept a very detailed journal since I could pick up a pen. However, the past few years have been full of disappointment, illness and stress. In the midst of the commotion, I put my pen down and opted to only write when professors demanded it.
That is changing now. I will blog. I vow to do this at least 3 times a week.
It will be full of inspiration, hope, disappointment, fear, laughter and love.
A book can wait. For now, blogging will have to do.
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