|'The Beginning', 2013.|
Well there's been a Christmas since I last wrote and it's a whole new year. That's supposed to mean new beginnings, or so I hear. (As I read that back, I realised it rhymed, and no, it was not intentional, and yes, it makes me sound like a 6-year-old poet.) As for New Year's resolutions, well to be honest I gave up on those some time ago. Most people feel deficient in some way, why exacerbate that with feelings of failure? Because let's be honest, resolutions are like real Christmas trees. They're pretty much dead before the 12th day.
Do I sound pessimistic? Perhaps. Isn't this meant to be a celebratory, positive blog? Well, yes. But I also don't shy away from the realistic. It's the fifth day of 2013 and all I feel is the same leftover sludge from last year. Facebook encourages you to do a 'My Year in Review" picture/status/emotional upheaval post from the year 2012. No thanks. Was 2012 a bad year? Mostly no. I fell in love. I spent a lot of time with my family. I had a job (most of the time). I paid off some debt. So what's wrong? Why do I feel like I'm carrying all this weight around (and I don't mean my holiday belly)? I guess it's because every day I'm trying. Hard. Applying for jobs all across the world, in anything that interests me, in pursuing my writing and acting, in coming up with my business plan for, well, my hopefully soon-to-be-revealed business. And yet, I'm impatient. I want results. Now.
I'm turning 29 this year. Not that far from the little 3-0. No panic attacks about it yet, maybe because in my mind I'm still the lost 22 year old I once was. Except now I have to take more responsibility for myself. Although I was lying in bed the other day, wondering at what age do I have to give up my dreams and commit to a life that's lacking? Is that even an option for me? For my own mental health what I do each day, well, it matters. Some people think of their jobs as something that funds the rest of their life, what they really want to do they do in their free time. I know the lovely one sees it that way. But, I don't know if I'd survive that life. Or even if I'd want to.
So I keep on keeping on. In the midst of the job applications, I write. In the midst of my budgeting, I create art. In the midst of my worries, panics, confusion, I dream. I doubt I'll ever stop.