Time starts to get away from you the older you get. I’ve been noticing it more and more. I used to think I’d like all different kinds of superpowers when I was a kid; flight, telekinesis, pyrokinesis, etc etc, but now? Fuck, let me stop time at my leisure, let me read those books, watch those movies, get that 8 hours of sleep, and not feel like I’m losing out on other things, and I’ll be thrilled. Who needs to start fires with their mind when I can get a solid 8 hours sleep uninterrupted?
Anyway. This blog was meant to be to end 2019, but… y’know, the whole ‘having time’ thing means that it gets to be my first blog of 2020. Roll with it.
That meme floating around of Boromir getting nailed with arrows and each of them is the last three years, with 2020 sighting up, is a real mood at this point, but shit, if I can’t be an optimist going into the new decade, the least I can do is be a realist.
So realistically... I'm sure it won't be that bad?
Oh, side note, I did 2019’s National Novel Writing Month, and it was kind of bittersweet. I charged into the month so ready, so passionate, to get things done. I didn’t necessarily have all my ducks in a row, but I figured more would fly in for me to rearrange as the story progressed (they didn’t). Between research, drafts and chapters, I passed my 50,000 word goal, with days to spare as well. It was great. I felt accomplished.
And utterly exhausted.
Pushing to hit those word limits every day did something to my creativity; as if I’d taken the rag that held all my creative juices and wrung it dry over the paper. Now I feel tapped out. December was a total write off as far as coming up with anything creative - I stared at blank pages like I was staring into the abyss of a black hole.
Here’s hoping that the New Year actually comes with a little boost as far as creativity. If there’s a creative marinade I can baste my brain in, I’ll do it. I’m not above that, not by any means.
And, before I get anyone saying ‘it’s called liquor’, don’t worry. I’m already there. Just writing ‘this’ required three drinks.
So I stare down the barrel of a new year and think of all the things I want to do, or change. Are they called resolutions? Probably. But I don’t like to think of them as resolutions. I don’t like to think that I wait for an arbitrary date on the calendar to do something. Instead I like to think of them as goals, because sometimes, you can’t achieve everything all at the same time. Sometimes you need to pace yourself. And sometimes the things you want the most can’t even be decided by you, so you have to let go of the illusion of control and just… hope for the best, I guess.
That’s the hardest part.
I don’t remember what I said at the end of last year. I don’t really want to check either. Something tells me I’ll be equally as pleased as I am disappointed by the things I did and did not get done. So why torture myself? Letting go of the past and the things that weigh you down is one of the easier ways to sail into the future so… here’s hoping I can Elsa this shit up and let it go.
