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It's only two days after the turn from 2017 to 2018 and it feels as though nothing has really changed. That makes sense, but it goes against the spirit of the season. Everyone ambles up to the new year with a list of resolutions as long as the day is cold, cheering towards progress. This ambiance flooded Facebook, with everyone posting about what the new year means to them-- and I've become apart of that crowd in the writing of this.
I still live in the same apartment I've been living in for over a year now, I'm still single, I still work in the same job, but there's nothing wrong with these things remaining static. Change is good, but change doesn't have to be foisted upon me. I can choose to embrace it when it arrives, but I don't have to upend my life solely to fulfill that purpose. Nonetheless, not wanting to change isn't necessarily healthy either. Stagnation is a common ailment. I need to look to change where it makes sense. To that aim, I took baby's first steps towards doing anything and bought a yoga mat. It meets my agenda of some sort of fitness and coincides with my deep seated desire to not go out into the cold. I can complain and talk in circles all I want, so I'll get to the meet of what I should aim for, actual resolutions. I resolve that this year I'll do some degree of semi-regular yoga or some other fitness activity, because I should. I resolve that I'll complete at least one project that's been languishing in a state of incompleteness, optimally the Dragrace Pentina Project listed on this blog. I want to read more books again, write more, submit more things to literary magazines and the like. I want to be my biggest fan I suppose, and pursue my happiness with a fervor. As long as the year is still young and I work on working towards things, well, that's good. There's no crime in "losing" on your resolutions except for shame, but I have no need for shame and guilt and its kind. Perfect is the enemy of good and I'm trying to resolve to be better, one thing at a time. That and I can't ironically call myself trash if I'm not making resolutions to break later, like everyone else that I'm implicitly mocking for making the same posts themselves. It wouldn't be ethical to leave myself out of the proverbial line of fire that existed only in my head up until this point.
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Bio:I'm a 25 year old with a critique for everything. Archives
February 2018
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