Hello 2019!
We're less than 24 hours into the new year, so I had to retype that title several times to get it right. My love of diarizing has been cramped by a vicious combination of a lack of time, a lack of meaty subject matter, and a newfound aversion to making my private life public. Having a kid provides an endless font of quotable moments, but since what I record will now reflect on and eventually be read by her, it's difficult to proceed with the same reckless abandon that I managed in my twenties and thirties.
Proceeding in the face of difficulty is how you get writing done, though, yeah?
Enough lamenting; more blogging.
I won't stray from the usual formula of January 1st posts - a time to reflect, to assess, and to make fresh plans that can immediately start going off the rails.
Reflection is easy. Simply put, I'm content. My job is steady and supportive, home situation is good, my kid is fun and loving, my partner is still a delight after 10 years of domestic bliss, my mom is wonderful. I have all that I need. There are things I strive for, places I'd still like to visit, I could always use more time to myself for exercise, reading and creative pursuits, but that's not news.
If anything, I feel guilty about how satisfactory my life is at the moment. Every time I read someone else's blog, they're pouring their heart out, and that heart is dripping with stress and self-loathing and dissatisfaction. Perhaps this is both the tragedy and consolation of middle life: I just can't get as worked up about stuff as I used to. Sure, global politics isn't going the way I'd like. Sure, I weigh between 10 and 30 pounds more than I should. Sure, I spend more time consuming media than creating new art. But how much energy do I need to expend on feeling bad about this stuff? Can't I just grieve it and move on?
As for fresh plans, my choice to procreate has locked me in to a certain path for the next 15 years or so, so the scope and breadth of my new year's resolutions are somewhat restricted. Also, I'm not feeling time pressure like I once did. If I don't get these right today, you know what? I can change them tomorrow. Or add to them next month. Nobody cares but me. So here we go...
- aim to not buy frivolous or unnecessary items for the first 30 days of the year
- aim to blog at least once a week
- since you commit to reading 50 books every year, try to make at least 5 of them non-fiction in 2019, just to mix it up a bit
- do at least one more painting with Darren, that was fun
- book one day every other month as a personal day, to use for physical maintenance (massage, etc) and creative pursuits; do NOT use it for housekeeping
- finish paying off all your outstanding home debt by your 42nd birthday
- please go to the gym every Sunday morning; try for one night a week as well in summer (rowing again? karate with kid? Zumba with friends?)
- clean up some of your unfinished projects; close out the Weekend Novelist overview; wrap up the knitted baby DNA any way you can and mail it to Keira; finish the Noro Jacaranda Wrap top and mail it to Lara; frog anything else you're not into and stop using crafting as an excuse to not write
- plan for 2020; set some goals, get some outlines in order, choose some friends or pay some pros to keep you on track (whatever it takes to finish a shitty first draft)
- get rid of the wooden dining room chairs, treadmill, babywearing gear, sled, bike carrier, and whatever other crap you can bring yourself to purge from the basement. Enlist the help of your mother if you must. Give to Goodwill instead of selling things, you don't really need the Kijiji money, do you?