Kinda went on a spring clean kick today and tidied up the house. Partly because BibbleGal's coming to stay next weekend and partly because I'm sick of living in a house that looks like a bomb went off in it somewhere. Anyway, I ended up finding a bunch of stuff that was my mothers and for the first time since she died I didn't burst into tears as soon as I saw it.

It's true what they say, the pain of grief never goes away but there does come a day when you realise that you've been living with the pain so long that you don't really notice it anymore.

I realised today that for the past ten years I've been drifting, I ended up at uni because it was easier than not going, I ended up working in the library because it was easier than signing on, I ended up getting a promotion because someone else wanted me to apply.

I have always wanted to write - ever since I was a little girl I wanted to be "An authoress" and I've done bugger all about it. Recently I started writing fanfic but even that is using other people's characters. I'm in a state of fugue right now - I know my life sucks but at the moment I can't think of a way to improve it. I know it will come, it has to, But right now there doesn't seem to be any light at the end of this particular tunnel.

And then I picked up a CD I hadn't listened to for years and while I was listening to it I realised something about myself. No one else can decide my destiny - I have to write it myself. So from now on, I'm going to do my job to the best of my ability and I am going to get the hell out of there at the soonest possible opportunity. I'm going to enter the writing competition I heard about and do my damndest to win it. I am going to be a published writer by the time I'm 35. (I'm 29 now so saying 30 is a bit too soon).

I am going to be me again.