Talking to Myself


I started reading this self-help book that has long been buried in my unread stack of books and it occurred to me.  I  need practical help.  I need to sort things out.  I need to review my life's purpose.  I need to get a good hard look at what I have been doing the past 3 years and ask myself: is this where I really want to be?  

I think I've made so many excuses because I have not made up my mind.  And truth is, I actually don't know where to start.  

Yes, I've been in and out of this "writing" rut the past year.  I've managed to put up with this blog and coughing up about 1 post per week (if I'm lucky).  I've managed to leaf through pages of books every now and then and have mostly finished spiritual ones to keep my faith afloat all this transitory "mess".  But what have I really been able to figure out the past 3 months into this year?  

My writing voice lacks the tenacity of a grown woman.  I feel like a child cowering underneath the table burying my face inside a book.  

Please don't cower anymore dear soul.

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