It’s January 1 and I’m off to a roaring start with a big, fat honking pimple on my chin. Just great, since I’d thought that I’d finally escaped looking like a high-schooler trapped in the throes of adolescent hormones and acne.
All in all, my day hasn’t been too spectacular by any means. Woke up from a nightmare as usual (one of my favorites: in the dream I forgot to feed my pets and by the time I remember they’re all dead or dying); felt a moment of relief that it was Saturday and that I wasn’t at work, but then remembered that it was New Year’s.
It’s not that I necessarily have anything against a new year, but I rarely feel like I have enough accomplishments to meet the next year with my head up. December 31 always brings a sense of pressure, disappointment, and who-knows-what-else as I think back over the past year to see what I’ve done. The 2010 year wasn’t as bad as some of the previous years: I got a new job, so I went from being a always-pissed-on contractor at Microsoft to a full-time permanent employee at a downtown Seattle firm; I’ve been challenging myself more with jewelry; moved out of the basement of my Chinese overlords to my own house. I guess it hasn’t been too bad at all. On the other hand, I then reflect on the things I did NOT do: finish painting the new house; sell my old car; arrange better living conditions (have almost no furniture); save more money; start my own business.
Rather than continue this very cheerful train of thought, I decided to get up. I was rather disturbed from the nightmare, so I took this as my chance to call my parents and douse myself in some parental love. This was the next best thing compared to what I used to do: sneak into my parents’ room after a nightmare, blanket and teddy bear in hand (I may have been around 17).
Had lunch (fish and chips) with the bf and his mom, and then wandered around at Target for a bit because I felt a little cabin feverish. Even for a hermit such as myself, staying at home 24/7 starts to wear a little thin.
At some point in my day after perusing FB and the multitude of New Year’s resolutions people are so fond of posting, I began to wonder whether I should strike up any resolutions for myself. It seemed a rather daunting prospect because everyone knows that resolutions are rarely kept. Should I even bother? I’m not exactly a person who always keeps my word 100% of the time, but I do try to maintain at least a pretense of being equal to my promises. Was there any resolution that I could even come close to keeping? Going to the gym is a laughable idea–I know myself too well. Eat healthier? Bleh, no fun.
Maybe I could write a blog post every day? I might be able to keep up barring any illnesses, as long as my posts can be of any length. I may occasionally resort to Twitter style posts when pressed for time, or am just feeling too lazy. Or maybe I should play it safe and just say I’ll blog more often than before. That’s really a kind of a cop-out since it would only take about 10 posts to reach that goal. If the point of a resolution is to make a significant change, then I guess that would be pretty weak sauce. Ok, ok, here it is.
I’ll commit to 5 posts a week.
If you enjoyed this article, please consider sharing it!
