It's a new year, yet much remain the same. If you are a student, you have the school terms reminding you where you are, you may be learning new lessons, but you are still in the same term. If you are a worker, your office would not suddenly have grown a measure, just because the calendar have completed and started on a new cycle. If you stay at home, you may even crave the sameness before the holidays -- some peace and quiet from the visiting family, the drunk uncle so and so's and the cousin smarty pants and the screaming children two too many. Chances are over the holidays your to do list has grown, bank account has shrank, and the state of your resolutions has remained the same year over year.
If you are me, dangling through the roller coaster of life, you may come back and stare at a blank "New Post" page for too long, racking your brain for things you can put down as "a blessing" for the day, thinking since it is a new year you ought to return to writing closer to the theme; but on second thought maybe you really hasn't fallen that far from it. After another hour you wonder if you have tempted faith a bit too much with this silly title, your mind filled with blanks.
But then you found you've had a few new readers, a few new comments, and a few more new blogs to read. Some are so good they light up your imaginations, and you make new connections with fired up comments. You don't care if they are returned, as you appreciate the writing, enjoyed the story and admire their skills so and you like to let them know that. You share a piece of you in the comment too. As a part of the story has caught onto a part of you, uncovering a corner of your memory that was put away for too long or an old wound that was never properly bandaged but suddenly you found it was not as bad as you thought, as others had it too, and they got better by letting it air out rather than stuffing it into a mental attic. When you click "publish comment", you feel the window to the attic open, and you feel the breeze.
Then you think perhaps they would return a visit, or someone else will, or they have already, and it's all good. You think perhaps a part of your story will touch a part of their hearts too, in some small way. You hope it'd light a fire in them, but you'd settle for cheering them on, even just for a moment, to see a little light at the end of the tunnel of the sameness, of drudge and dullness, new year's day or not.
So you begin, to just write about how you feel, and you've already forgotten about the blanks.