sex: not yet
expectations: none of the above
life goal: 1
post reach: 0
Here I sit watching Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows for the millionth time, wondering what I have done in the past 11 months and 25 days.
Well, less than I expected, that’s for sure.
As much as I love decorating and getting ready and eating all the holliday food, when Christmas actually comes, I come to realize that the preparations are what I enjoy the most; the day alone makes me think of my long-time uselessness and disappointment due to the fact that I’ve had a hundred things on my to-do-this-year list, and I had only done twelve.
What happens to me during the year? What is it that makes me forget what I’ve planned, what I’ve wanted, what I’ve set out to do? Am I really that much of an idiot?
And it’s the same sad story every year: I keep complaining and complaining, but do I ever do something about it? No, I do not. Instead I keep complaining and blaming both the world and myself. It’s exhausting.
Maybe a hundred things is just too much. Maybe I should just settle for fifteen, and then I’ll be happy with my twelve. The thing is, I have too much undone that’s dragging along all the way from the previous years.
All the while I’m feeling tired, so tired, and seemingly I’m not even doing anything.
Wow. That’s some optimism, I know.
You know what? I may have not accomplished things on my list, but I’ve done many other things that came along the way. Those things were as important to me as were those on the list, and I’ve definitely succeeded in managing them just the right way. So, do I complain? Am I ashamed? No. You can’t plan up your entire year anyway. The best you can hope for is handling the unexpected well, and slowly but safely finishing the expected. I’m not complaining. I’m sitting on my couch and laughing at the crazy year I’ve had. Man, it was twisted… And it still is. I’ve got five more days to do more crazy things, useful things, happy things.