I usually cannonball into the new year, wild-eyed with plans and goals and schemes and charts taped to the fridge. This year I’ve been sort of sidling up next to the idea of the new year, glancing sideways at it every now and then, but not really being so bold as to introduce myself.
Which is ok.
If I had done the whole New Year’s Resolutions thing this year, one of them would have been to just chill out. I (and I know I’m not alone) tend to be a little hard on myself.
My 2010 resolutions sound like an angry drill sergeant’s diatribe, punctuated with exclamation points, underlining and capital letters. FEWER NOVELS! MORE THEORY!, VEGETABLES!, WATER!, LESS WINE!, BEDTIME!, VITAMINS! …and on and on, until I had pinpointed every possible failing in every aspect of my life. I do this every year. I plan to whip myself into shape, become the ideal me, and the only way to get there is to have a little goddamn discipline, soldier!
You know what? I can’t imagine talking to another person like that. Which is why I’m not a drill sergeant, and also why I decided against the whole resolutions thing this year.
I do have a few plans in mind… there is a folder on my desktop of things I think it would be interesting to investigate, stuff I want to do, trivial things like new nail polishes, lipsticks and hair colors as well as things that are fundamentally important to me like writing and research… but no exclamation points, no capital letters, no charts on the fridge.
I’m sure another panic attack about all that I am and all that I am doing is just around the corner… it usually is. But at the moment, I’m content to just float into the new year, now fifteen days gone, and enjoy the little lapping waves.
And that feels like progress.