"The very act of writing assumes, to begin with, that someone cares to hear what you have to say. It assumes that people share, that people can be reached, that people can be touched and even in some cases changed. So many of the things in our world lead us to despair. It seems to me that the final symptom of despair is silence, and that storytelling is one of the sustaining arts; it’s one of the affirming arts. A writer may have a certain pessimism in his outlook, but the very act of being a writer seems to me to be an optimistic act."

— Tobias Wolff

Happy New Year.
Though I'd like to question the wisdom of having the new year start in January. Whose idea was this? January is so grey. Depressing. The greyest most depressing month. I think I'd like for the new year to start April 1.

Nonetheless. I'm not in charge of the calendar. In fact, I don't feel that I'm in much control of anything, and therein lies the problem. I am a victim of myself. I have to make some serious, serious changes. Would you like to follow along with my bouncing ball?

You can't imagine how much I need these changes. My life is a mess. I hope one day to look back on these last few years the way alcoholics or drug addicts look back at their past, before they found sobriety in Jesus, perhaps, and sigh and marvel at how far gone they were and how far they've traveled since.

What frightens me is how easily it can all go the other way.
There really is no stasis, I think. No progress is negative. You think you're standing still, at least, only to one day realize you're miles downstream from where you started.

I need to get back.