There's so much noise going on: voices, shouting, posts left and right. Work claws at my sleeves, physical tenderness slows me down, and all I can do is hope that tomorrow will be a better day.

Looking back, these past few months have not been good to me. Each day and night is a struggle to get things on numerous to-do lists (digital or otherwise) crossed out. Each visit to my Literature classes is a struggle to participate, to learn, to say impressive things that can reassure my self that this is career-wise the best track for me. Each failure I come home with—along with books, notebooks, and pens that have yet to be put to better use—is a reminder that I gotta get my act together.

But how?

There's so much noise going on. I needed to come back to this quiet place and be myself again. I need my sanity back, some encouragement, a writing vacation perhaps. Being able to write freely and satisfactorily has been a rare opportunity, a chance that always seems to whisk away before I could get a firm grasp of it. I need that moment of excitement and urge again.

I've bought a handful of notebooks, expensive paper, yet nothing has been put down yet. As Joseph Finnes laments in Shakespeare in Love, "It is as if my quill is broken. I've lost my muse."

My blogs are hungry, slow to push out content that are due of my readers. I always run low on topics and the infinite blank space would scare me away. It's a bad case of intimidation and laziness that pains me so. 

It's near dawn. No, it's still dark. I needed to come back to this quiet and reassuring place. It's been months since I've done so and I'm glad. Though my head throbs as a result of hot tears and lack of sleep, I'm glad I'm able to come here and type out my thoughts the way I used to.

Type? Write? Who knows anymore.

After posting my latest entry on Steffi Writes, I found this:   

Dreams are illustrations from the book your soul is writing about you.

— Marsha Norman

Didn't they say that 2012 is the year the earth blows up into smithereens? It doesn't look any different to me.

Oh wait, what month was it supposed to explode?

Ah, what the heck. The firecrackers outside are one and the same to me.

It's another year, my friends! But I have this feeling that Time (no, not Time Magazine) has gone extremely fast for some unknown reason; as if there's some kind of secret conspiracy going on that absolutely no one is aware of. Or maybe that's just paranoia and last night's spaghetti talking... who knows.

But what I do know is that 2012's here and we've got another 12 month-long chance to make things right, to make a difference, and to create new and more horrible mistakes again.

Nah, I'm just kidding about that last bit. But we're human, so there's a possibility.

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