I’ve started trying to learn how to draw. It’s one of those things that I’ve always thought I was terrible at.
I’m a huge believer in people trying their hand at writing if they feel the urge. Writing is one of those things you can really only learn by doing: write, figure out what you did wrong, figure out how to fix it. The problem is, there are so many ways to work on a story, it can be intimidating. Hopefully this series of posts will help give you a few ideas where to start.
As part of my plan to get more organized overall, I’m going to get a little more serious about my blogging. My goal is to post new content twice a week, on Tuesdays and Thursdays.
Well, it’s been two weeks today since I decided to start keeping a bullet journal. I’m surprised at how quickly it’s become one of the favorite parts of my day.
In other words, here’s what I’m coming to terms with: I have a severe chronic illness. It takes a tremendous amount of time and energy to manage my symptoms and make the necessary accommodations for myself in order to get things done. For twenty years I didn’t do that.
My mother told me the usual childhood lies: Santa Claus, the Easter Bunny, there’s no such thing as monsters. I understand those lies. I forgive them. What I can’t forgive are the other lies she told me. The lies she told me about myself.