Only five more days until the new year. The EcoFellow and Sister NoMo came over for taco night this evening. At one point, EcoFellow asked the question that has been asked since 0 B.C.E. rolled over into 1 B.C.E.: "What are your new-year's resolutions."
I had no answer.
And I didn't have the heart to be a party pooper and say how I think new-year's resolutions are a load of crap. I'm so embittered of late, I'm getting to a point where I think making plans or setting goals of any type, length, or achievement are just a load of horse hockey. I mean, who am I kidding with my personal goals and objectives?
And yet, I keep making them.
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This past spring, around my 39th birthday, I set what I very wittily referred to as my 40x40 goals: things I wanted to accomplish by my 40th birthday. They were (are) good goals. Things like losing 50 pounds and taking a drawing class and a cake decorating class and finding a better job and figuring out the meaning of life; relatively simple stuff like that.
To date, I've accomplished: ZERO.
I still need to lose 50 pounds. (Only now that it's after the holidays, it's probably more like 55 pounds.)
I haven't finished working through my "Drawing on the Right Side of the Brain" workbook, which my lovely friend Aitch gave to me this summer. Oddly, I have discovered that I'm enjoying photography a great deal and turning out some decent pictures. I suppose that's artistic?
I'm still trying to find a cake decorating class that doesn't have a wait-list that is nine months long.
I just lost a job, but I have a lead into a good job that I'm hoping might pan out. (I'm not saying anything more here, because I don't want to jinx it, thankyouverymuch.)
And, I doubt very much that I'll ever find the meaning of life, but I'm trying to learn to live with the disappointments better than I have been in the past. In other words, I'm learning to lower my expectations.
Hm. Maybe I'm doing better than I initially thought. Not great, mind you, but at least trying.
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I wonder, did our ancestors ever feel or have a sense of futility? Or is fatalism a product of the late 20th century?
I've blogged about this subject so often now, I'm starting to sound like a broken record.
Fuck. Let's face it: I am a broken record.
I'm a record with a deep scratch in it that causes the needle to jump and fall back, playing the same notes over and over and over again. Jump. Repeat. Jump. Repeat. Jump. Repeat.
I think it's time to toss out the old record and get a new one. My life needs a new theme song. Any suggestions? The box is now open.
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What is it about being stuck?
A friend has recently been posting blog entries from folks who have written about their fears and what they would do if they were free from fear.
Fear is the thing that seems to keep me stuck, which really pisses me off. I'm not pissed that I'm fearful. I'm pissed that I allow myself to be trapped. I choose to be stuck. And that makes me especially angry.
I like to think of myself as fearless, but in point of fact, I think what I think of as fearlessness in myself is really cowardice punctuated by passive-aggressive rejoinders.
Oh, wait. I'm still on that same jumpy, bumpy, wash-rinse-and-repeat record.
I'm stopping. Right now.
I think. Or maybe I'm not.
It's all too scary to contemplate...
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9 comments:
This whole post reminded me of a song by Jana Stanfield, If I Were Brave. The first line starts out "What would I do if I knew I could not fail." Love her music... you should href="http://www.janastanfield.com/">check it out.
Can't help with the meaning of life question - still looking myself - but href="http://www.cakesplus.com/">her e's a place for cake decorating. A friend took a couple of their classes and said he liked the fact that there wasn't a long wait and small class size. It's been a couple of years, but maybe they're still that accessible?
Argh. My html links suck... you get the idea.
Here's a new song for you, Tewkesy:
The Riddle (Five for Fighting)
There was a man back in '95
Whose heart ran out of summers
But before he died, I asked him
Wait, what's the sense in life
Come over me, Come over me
He said,
Son why you got to sing that tune
Catch a Dylan song or some eclipse of the moon
Let an angel swing and make you swoon
Then you will see... You will see
Then he said,
Here's a riddle for you
Find the Answer
There's a reason for the world
You and I...
Picked up my kid from school today
Did you learn anything cause in the world today
You can't live in a castle far away
Now talk to me, come talk to me
He said,
Dad I'm big but we're smaller than small
In the scheme of things, well we're nothing at all
Still every mother's child sings a lonely song
So play with me, come play with me
And Hey Dad
Here's a riddle for you
Find the Answer
There's a reason for the world
You and I...
I said,
Son for all I've told you
When you get right down to the
Reason for the world...
Who am I?
There are secrets that we still have left to find
There have been mysteries from the beginning of time
There are answers we're not wise enough to see
He said... You looking for a clue I Love You free...
The batter swings and the summer flies
As I look into my angel's eyes
A song plays on while the moon is hiding over me
Something comes over me
I guess we're big and I guess we're small
If you think about it man you know we got it all
Cause we're all we got on this bouncing ball
And I love you free
I love you freely
Here's a riddle for you
Find the Answer
There's a reason for the world
You and I...
Di, I was ready to give a futilistic comment, but that poem you wrote out got me all choked up.
Yeah -- what the f*** are we shooting for, anyway? Why aren't we just good enough the way we are right now?
Your goal, Tewks, should be to like yourself at least as much as your friends (including me) do.
And here's my fatalistic comment (less futile): it seems to me that as we grow older we become characatures of ourselves. Our attributes and eccentricities become exaggerated. Depressing, eh? But that doesn't mean we can't bust through our fears now and then and do something quite surprising.
I'll leave this anonymous. I know you fairly well, have known you quite some time. You are an interesting, fun loving, caring and witty person. You are also so much more. Keep putting one foot in front of the other. We all have our struggles in life. Some wise advise was given to me years ago when I was having a major struggle, "Hang in there Ol'Buddy". You are loved by many.
NG: What would I do if I were brave? Boy, there's the million dollar question, eh? The interesting thing is, I believe I can do anything. It's getting the rest of the world to believe that, too, and then leaving me be to just let me be me.
Thanks for the link to cake decorating classes. I looked at their site, per your suggestion, and I like that the classes are small. I'm going to give them a call tomorrow.
Di: This song from Five for Fighting is perfect! It gets right at the heart of what I'm really struggling with most of the time these days. I'm trying not to look at life in a defeatist, Sisyphusitic manner, but it's hard not to do lately. I've got to stop staring at my feet and start moving them, to roughly quote Lao Tzu.
Phoebe: There's the second million dollar question: Why aren't we just good enough the way we are? And why do we let others think it has to matter to us what they think? And why do we make what others think matter? (And now my head is spinning.)
As for your fatalistic comment, I agree that our attributes and eccentricities become exaggerated as we age. But, I also have to counter: do they become that way because we've said that's what they are or do they become that way because someone else tells us that's what they are? (I have a whole blog post waiting in the wings on that very idea, but another day.)
Anon: Tell me who you are... That aside, your words are wise. Thank you.
"do they become that way because we've said that's what they are or do they become that way because someone else tells us that's what they are? (I have a whole blog post waiting in the wings on that very idea, but another day.)"
I am waiting for this one; you have a way of enlightening me.
Yeah -- I guess people tend to see only what they want to see, right? So if I do something dimwitted, somebody who wants confirming evidence that I'm a hopless dimwwit will say, "Ha! I knew she'd do that! She always does that!" But maybe that same person ignores the smarter-than-average things I do, right?
I would like you to change the paradigm in writing for me so I can hang it on my mirror, please.
- Phoebe
"hopless dimwwit"
God -- of all the words to misspell!
Ha ha ha ha :)
Ahem.
Hopeless dimwit
-ph
Phoebe: LMAO! Ah... Breathe... Frankly, I'd rather be a hopless dimwit than a hopeless one! xo
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