dirty thirty

Since the very moment I turned 29 last February, I could not wait for the upcoming year to pass and for me to turn 30. What's at 30, you ask? The answer is that I don't quite know. The same thing as every other year, I suppose. For some reason, however, 30 seemed to hold for me some magical power that could make me smarter, thinner, more successful, and even closer to God. When you're 30, you drive a car that always runs, fall in love every day, and always have enough money in the bank! Right?

Maybe.
If your life's screenplay was written by Nora Ephron.

I won't lie though: I'm pretty damn excited to be making some changes and decisions this year. I want 30 to mean something, even if only to me. I want to see where this photography stuff will go, and I want to travel more - a lot more. I want to meet more people, see more things, do more stuff, and take more chances.
I want to stop drinking so much damn wine. Or maybe start drinking a lot more...

God knows my name, but I want this to be the year that I truly and quite deeply know His. Every single one of them.

I don't really make new years resolutions. Ever.
There are times when I consider it, certainly. The tantalizing turning of the calendar is always a temptation to begin making changes and to start anew.

But friends, if I were prone to making resolutions at the new year then I would have resolved that this is the year I will write more frequently - at the very least about all the things that I hope are yet to come.

To be continued...