In My Jimjams

I always find myself besought with intimidation when facing the very first page of a journal. It had at one point gotten so bad that I commenced my entries on the second or third page. While being well aware that this effectively made whatever page I wrote on the first page, I was still nonetheless comforted. As I begin to write this very first post of the year 2011 I am filled with many of the same emotions that once stirred in me when I was about to put that very first pen mark in a shiny new journal.

For many years my life has been a series of half-filled journals; they lie scattered around my home where I shall perhaps one day come upon them. I never liked leaving them so incomplete, but I could never bring myself to write about my days. With this blog I have managed to surprise myself - I have no strong desire to abandon it.

With this new year I am more determined than ever to be faithful to this chronicle. In fact, I should like very much to increase the frequency of my postings, but I shall make no promises.

There is much to be excited about. Tomorrow I go back to school, an event I have eagerly been anticipating. And while there are those who might roll their eyes at my nerd-like enthusiasm I say courageously unto them: Mind your own business, I like school! - Not as eloquent as one might expect but it gets the point across. I am also eager to return to my dancing lessons and to once again be able to take up a regular-ish work out. It is in keeping to some sort of a routine that I find I am able to justify the amount of time I spend with my head in the clouds.

The first book for the 100+ Reading Challenge is underway. In choosing to go with a classic: Jane Eyre by Charlotte Bronte, I find myself considering the difficult task of writing a review. What more can I say about a book that has been so frequently discussed? At the very least I am eager to get some long-awaited books off my list. 100 Books seems rather a large amount when I am forced to consider all the reading I shall have to complete for my courses.

From the cozy niche that is my bedroom the next few months float and dissolve before me, insubstantial and above all, manageable. I sit nestled in my pyjamas, which are black and decorated with tiny, delicate pink flowers, and  consider the coming year. I feel entirely capable in the safe embrace of my pyjamas; all is possibilities.