I didn't expect 2011 to feel any different, but when I woke up this morning (once I got past severe grogginess) I felt really optimistic. This year will definitely be better than 2010 for me in general, and I hope it will be better for my writing as well. I've been writing poetry off and on throughout break, so I've made writing into a new habit. That's one goal from last year I can check off my list. One other goal from last year was to read 50 books by the end of the year. I didn't quite get there, but 47 is still fairly respectable, I think. So, that goal is carried over to my list for this year. 50 books by the end of 2011. I'd love to make the goal of having the first draft of my novel complete and cohesive, but I won't set that one just yet. I don't know what God wants me to work on this year, and I need to take things as they come while trusting Him. I found a poem I wrote two years ago just after New Year's, so I'll post it here.
Folding the Map
Withering, fading wandering wrecked
grays of speckled haze of a winter day
know not more than they know for their own
appointed moment.
Mist vanishes versus vernal dreams
clearing a course for the rest of time,
which they contain no vision of.
For the suspicion of eternity is
only a suspicion, but for One
Who subsumes every solution and never
a single speculation.
Every speck of pollen holds
a glimpse of time but will never know
the ages of the oceans.
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