I used to call myself a writer.  I no longer do this.  At University I was a Communications Major with emphasis on Journalism.  I wrote all the time; at the newspaper, for local student magazines, papers, articles, etc.  The year I graduated and decided to move to NYC, I was offered three different internships: OUT magazine, Paper and Time Out.  I couldn’t take any of them because they were unpaid.  I couldn’t afford to live without having an income. I had zero savings and 25K in student loans.  At that point, my dream of moving to 
And so I came to NYC, but I moved on…working in non-profit, catering, advertising, finance; 10 years later and I’ve done a lot of things in NYC.  But I haven’t done a lot of writing.  Every year it is a New Year’s resolution and each year I fail miserably.  IN 2008 I decided two things:  I would write a blog about trying to get pregnant and life in general and I would take a writing class.  Taking a class would also give me something else to focus on instead being obsessive about TTC.  
My first class, Travel Writing, was this evening and I loved it!  I’ve never been in an entire class full of people who would quit everything to go travel.  They got it, this thing that I do; quitting jobs, taking leaves of absence, working freelance/temp assignments, saving all your money for ONE thing—the next big trip.
My mind has been jolted awake and my inner writer is coming back.  I can’t wait to meet her again.
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