It's been a long time since the last entry. I've been sticking to my journal. Yes, writing for me feels different with a pen making music across blank pages . My journal is called "A woman's journal"--not my intention. I still remembered I anxiously needed one and that volume seemed to contain a year of turbulence the best.
Five days ago I started writing entries again. Well aware of the end of 2010 was coming, I did a little maths. I need to write 5 pages (double-sides) everyday to finish this book of the year. Suddenly that feeling of why-the-deadline-is-here-already surged. Adrenaline released-pupils dilated-muscles contracted-...
Why should I finish the story before the New Year? After I quickly re-installed my superior self-rationalization, I told myself the story officially began on 25th Jan 2010 ! (the day I bought the "A woman's journal")
Perfectly OK to take it easy. However, from that time, my pen seems to be struck by magic and doesn't want to stop once I started an entry. I have been writing from 11.10pm Dec.31st 2010 to 1am Jan.1st 2011--scribbling to the new year with Beethoven's Symphony No.9 on radio.
I think it's going to be a great year, mark my word.
Happy 2011!
