Well, hello, 2015, you brand spanking new year, you. What have you got to say for yourself?
I know what you’re thinking, 2015. You’re thinking, “Hey, lady, I hope you’re not planning to launch a list of New Year’s resolutions like the rest of the blohgosphere when you’ve obviously forgotten to compose a 2014 in Review post, you lazy slag.”
See, we’ve only been acquainted for a matter of hours and already I know you better than you know me, because for your information I totally didn’t forget the review post. Not doing isn’t the same thing as forgetting, let me remind you, and not doing is exactly what I did. Or didn’t. Um. That could use a bit of an edit. (Also something I’m not doing.)
It’s not that my year was a write-off. I’m actually quite pleased with it on a number of fronts. I finished the first draft of my first not-utter-shite novel. I took two writing workshops that inspired and improved my writing. I started writing poetry again. I went on the first real vacation I’ve taken for years.
Other aspects of 2014, though? So very much not something I choose to relive, however briefly. Those aspects will remain stuffed away in a trunk in my own personal dark attic, waiting until I need them to inject their special misery into a particularly nasty story that I’m trying to make particularly nastier. (And the plot bunnies start breeding like mad…)
So, there you go, 2015. You can stop staring at me with that j’accuse expression, and you can also fold up your worry pants and tuck them away in your dresser, or chest of drawers, or highboy, or lowboy, or wherever units of time choose to stash their emotional wardrobes these days. (I’m not drunk, not even drinking, I swear.)
As for the resolutions, well, they’re pretty simple: I will write more and I will get my literal and figurative houses in order. Yeah, yeah, yeah. I know the trend in goal-setting is for specificity and measurability and time-boundedness, but guess what? I couldn’t give a rat’s nethers. When my life turns into a corporate wonderland, I’ll start composing resolutions that fit the S.M.A.R.T. criteria. Or shoot myself. (One of my resolutions was going to be that I’d think fewer cranky/shitty/unkind thoughts, but then I wrote the last couple of sentences and realized I had to either delete it or fail right out of the gate.)
And there we have it. Lovely to meet you, 2015, and I look forward to spending the next twelve months discovering what you have in store for me, for those I love, and for the planet. Be kind, okay?