Stories

"Hey, girlie!" She called after me as I raced officeward, morning diet Dr. Pepper in hand. "You forgot your change." I raised an eyebrow (on the inside -- much to my dismay, I have never been able to get my external eyebrows to move independently). She knows I never keep the two cents.

"And, you never did tell me your New Year's Resolution." Ah, there we go. And I had so hoped the season of exchanging vows with total strangers had come to an end. Silly me. "I'm losing twenty pounds. Atkins," she confided between bites of chocolate-chip muffin. Apparently, she's starting tomorrow.

So, what's my resolution? Well, here's a hint: you're reading it. My vow for this year is to write. Once a day, every day, like Flintstone's vitamins (except not fruit flavored). As a kid, I was constantly writing: epics set in fantastic lands (many of which bore an uncanny resemblance to stories you may have heard of, like, say, Lord of the Rings); angsty poems about Capitalist oppression (these weren't, I don't think, my best work); my name in red crayon on my grandma's wall (this, on the other hand, may quite well have been the height of my writing career). But, somewhere along the way, I must've forgotten to keep writing. Maybe by posting where all the world can - but likely won't - see, I'll remember this time.