Oh hi, 2012. Wish you had called before coming over, I would have changed out of these pajamas and maybe brushed my teeth.
(I would beg your indulgence on this post, dear reader, if I didn't have the feeling you had all abandoned me to my neuroses. It's gonna read like a really navel-gazing journal entry. Sorry.)
How does a new year manage to sneak up on me? But it did and here it is, a bright, shiny new year that I have yet to tarnish with continued low expectations and even lower productive output. 2011 was an all around shitty year. Bad things happened to good people, calamities, catastrophes and other words beginning with c. But nothing happened to me! Nothing good or bad, that I can remember. Nothing at all, actually. And I think I've finally figured out why: because I'm sitting here waiting for stuff to happen TO me. Turns out you have to DO stuff for stuff to HAPPEN.
When I was younger and full of more vim and vigor than stale Pop-Tarts and self-loathing, I would have made a list of New Year's resolutions. They would have read like so:
1. Get my novel published!
2. Lose 10 pounds and buy a really awesome wardrobe.
3. Learn to salsa dance.
4. Say yes to all of life's opportunities!
And so on. I never accomplished anything on those lists, but the writing of them filled me with such hope and excitement. This would be my year!, I would always think to myself triumphantly (I also liked to use exclamation points back then). I would begin the new year with my chin set, shoulders and hips in alignment, all chakras illuminated or what-have-you, and I'd set out to conquer that year, Scarlett O'Hara as my witness. Even though I rarely made much headway on the resolutions, I was trying. I did set out to do stuff and even when my plans didn't work out, interesting stuff happened. I can't seem to remember anything off the top of my head but, believe me, stuff happened.
A tiny part of me -- like the grain of sand that was all that was left of Fantasia at the end of The NeverEnding Story -- wants to draw up a list of resolutions and find something exciting to work toward. But I need a goal beyond becoming a certain size or writing a certain number of words or even learning to merengue or cha cha. So I won't make a list -- instead, I'll give myself one resolution this year: stop thinking about it, and just LIVE.