New Year, New Hope

You won't believe how many times I have to hit backspace with this ridiculous futzy keyboard that I can't seem to take in to get serviced because then I'm completely sans computer. Maybe that'll be one of my resolutions, get this blasted MBP fixed.

This will be the year of potentially perfect vision (or maybe just in hindsight) – in your best Baba Wawa voice say, "This is twenty twenty!"

So here we are. Back into the roaring '20s. Or what will the kids call it now? The raging '20s? There's a lot to be fired up about – climate change, our Administration, healthcare, continued systemic sexism, the list goes on and on. Or, if we're going the apathy route, the Boring '20s?

But personally, what will I be doing? You're dying to know, aren't you. Me too.

Hopefully this year:

• New (better?) job, maybe something that allows for travel. 
• More creativity.
• More leaning. My brain easily falls into rot mode and I need to do something to combat this. Maybe finally dedicate some time to that piano that currently just guilt-taunts me.
• Learn more recipes and cook/bake more. Sometimes I forget that there is joy in making food, even if it's just for myself. 
• Finish that sewing project I started last year, which also means getting my sewing machine serviced since it's in dire need of a major tuneup. I won't go into detail the frustrations of my machine.
• Create or deepen connections with others
• Self-improvement. Mind, body. I'm a constant WIP.

Hopefully this decade:

• Move somewhere new. This is both terrifying and wildly exciting. I've never moved to a new city alone.
• Finally have all my legal birth name updated everywhere. I swear the name change is the bane of my existence. I can't even update my frequent flyer account info without having to submit a copy of the court-order document.
• On a similar [ranty] note: stop receiving mail for The Ex. He never even lived here. Why do I get his mail? It's annoying. Ironically, Tom never gets mail for me at his flat despite me actually living there for years and co-owning the place. 
• Figure out what I'm doing with my life when I become an empty nester(!). Yoshi will be eighteen in two years. And she'll eventually move out. That's just cray-cray.
• Also self-improvement here too. Because. I cannot escape myself.

But tonight? It's New Year's Eve. It's been a while since I rung in the new year with any fanfare. But that's not to say that I won't be celebrating in my own, quiet way. Most likely you'll find me (no, don't find me please) sipping something boozy in a hot bubble bath. Maybe eating cookies. Candles, music. All the good self-care stuff. This has mainly become tradition for me, to spend the evening reflecting on the past year, visualizing the upcoming. 

Perhaps the nicest surprise of 2019 is that it has given me hope and optimism for 2020.

Happy New Year, my friends. 

A good start

I already banked twice as many Unoriginal blog posts this month than I did the entire year of 2017, so if I don't write anything more here I can still say I succeeded with my 2018 intention. I blogged more. Hmm, though I can't say it was remarkably funny.

___

Pinterest. Can I rant/rave a little about it? Sure, why not, it's my blog. 

Remember when it first came out? It was all the rage. Pin this, pin that. Everything looks wonderful and I wanted to do all the crafty things and buy all the pretty clothes and cook all the delicious meals and make my home look like it came out of a design magazine. And then feel shitty that my life looks nothing like the pins. But of course. That's the interwebs for ya! An online portfolio of the best stuff.

And lately? All those ads? I can't trust what I'm seeing is from someone I follow or some promoted pin. I avoided the site for a while because it was just too damn annoying. But guess what? Today I installed a Chrome extension that blocks all the ads and just shows up as a blank spot on the page. Glorious! It is life-changing in the world of Pinterest. Also, there are a shit ton of ads. One per row as you scroll. 

But I definitely find value in Pinterest. I pin things to remind me of what clothes I bought and liked. Or what perfume samples I tried and wouldn't mind buying a bottle of. And recipes and cooking tips I refer to. Or product photography inspiration. Sometimes it will jump start me into a new sewing project.

Speaking of a new sewing project... I was going down the rabbit hole of window-shopping online and came across a blush pink satin trench coat. Wha?! Is this cool or dumb? Either way, I now want to sew a satin trench. I'm not entirely convinced this will look good on me. 

1. As much as it's a wardrobe staple, I'm having difficulty finding a sewing pattern for a trench coat. What I've found so far doesn't look great, but it may be what I settle for. 
2. Will a satin trench coat just look like a fancy bathrobe? Should I go full on loungewear and pair it with a sweatshirt, flannel jammy pants, and some Uggs (not that I own Uggs) and then head to the grocery store? No, silly, you know I wouldn't be caught dead wearing something like that. 
3. Really what do I wear with this? And what color should I make it? And what kind of satin? Fancy silk? Cheap polyester? The sky's the limit and, as always, I'm overwhelmed with choices. 

But first, I have some pants I want to make. So: start with the pants, then maybe next a jumpsuit, and then the jacket. Oh, and I still have to finish knitting that blanket for my mom. Am I being overly ambitious? 

Maybe,

just maybe, if I drink just enough every day to where the words flow freely yet still make some sort of sense, my new year's intention of blogging more will be fulfilled.

Speaking of alcohol, I seem to have a lower tolerance now, which is not necessarily a bad thing, but it does make for a more sloppy night out on those nights that I do actually venture out. I'm just finishing up glass el numero dos.

Oh! Another intention. Dance more. I've got a recently single friend who is itching to go out and dance more now that he's not committed to anyone. I told him I'd be his wing-woman, mostly because I love dancing and want an excuse to go out. Not sure how successful I'd be at winging (what is the verb here). The trouble is finding the right club that's not too young and gross. Or too gay (which is fine for me, but maybe not for my hetero-male-looking-to-meet-chicks-friend). Cat Club might be our only choice, though I'm totally fine with that. I think the problem is that when I go out dancing, I really just want to dance. And when a lot of guys go out dancing (I'm generalizing here), it's because they want to meet/find/hookup with women and they think dancing is the way to do it. Different goals.

Let's see what else... there was an earthquake last night, around 2:30am. A 4.4. I was half awake when it hit, as I woke up a bit dehydrated from all the wine I had. Whenever there's a quake, the series of thoughts go through my head:

1. Is that a truck passing by?
2. Nope, that's an earthquake! Listen to that rumble!
3. Is it ending?
4. Nope, still going?!
5. Is it getting stronger?
6. Should I try to find cover? WHERE?!
7. I'm just gonna stay here. I'll be fine.
8. Okay, cool, it's over.
9. Or is it? No, that's just my adenaline-pounding-heart shaking me.
10. But when is the big one going to hit?

I didn't fall back asleep until 4am, so, like everyone else wide awake, I hit up twitter for a bit and relived all the excitement through people's tweets.

And today? Tired again. And still have a lingering cough. I have no recollection of what it's like to feel completely healthy. (I know, I know, the drinking isn't helping. BUT TRUST ME, IT DOES.)

It's a new year

Hello, hello, hi. Happy New Year. It's 2018. Twenty eighteen. Remember when Y2K was a thing? Man, that was almost twenty years ago.

I ran out of everyday-whiskey at the apartment. But! I have a bottle of Johnny Walker Blue. I think I received it for my third year work-anniversary. I can't justify opening it to drink for no special occasion though. I might save it for when I quit work. Or get fired.

I've been drinking lots of wine though. I have a decent enough stash that won't age well beyond a year, so I best be enjoying my supply. I'm on bottle two this week.

I haven't thought of any intentions for this year. I think I'm not in a really great head-space right now due to work being bleh. If I can't make my work life better, I'm going to start looking for employment elsewhere. It just might be time.

Maybe my intention should be to write/blog more. And make it funn[i]er. I swear I can be hilarious in real life. Writing? Not so much. Two sides of the same coin. I'm working on it.

Okay, it's decided. Must. Write. More.

Or go back to therapy. But writing is cheaper, and I need to rebuild my whiskey (and cognac) stash.

Before I can say hello to 2015,

I have to say goodbye to 2014.

I closed out the year solo. I needed the solitary time. I actually don't remember the last time I spent it alone. Maybe I never have?

A hot bubble bath, sipping Scotch, listening to music. Crawled into bed, wrote down some thoughts. Drifted off to sleep – I won't say how early, but I did manage to wake up to the sound of fireworks at midnight and my phone semi-exploding with drunken texts from friends.

There's a lot to reflect back on this past year, thinking back to the intentions I set for myself:

While I can't say I took care of myself physically for the entire year, I did manage to do a decent job for a good chunk of it, so long as you don't count the nights I had alcohol for dinner (I know, I know). I stayed active with dancing, walking, biking. I went four months without drinking, and probably drink a wee bit less on average now than before my dry period. Baby steps.

I tried very hard to stay connected with my feelings and emotions, and to express them when appropriate. I didn't make it to therapy, but made plenty of time to write and reflect on worthwhile experiences. I strengthened a lot of bonds with those important to me.

Gratitude. So much in my life to be thankful for. Hopefully I did a decent job letting people know how much I value them. Expressing my love for them.

I kept an open mind and an open heart to new experiences. Sometimes they proved painful, but always a learning experience. And I still have so much to learn.

I think I was successful with how I lived 2014. I don't regret anything. It was a year of thrills and magic.

Okay, so let's briefly look forward to 2015, shall we? What intentions or goals should I set forth?

Some goals quickly come to mind:
- Divorce. The judgement is in less than two weeks and it'll be official by the end of March. Boom.
- Legally changing my surname back to my maiden name.
- Find a new company to work for (or figure out a way to make this current one better).
- Read more. I've completely slacked on this.
- Knit more. Ditto above.

I want to continue and build upon last year's intentions of staying connected to myself, taking care of myself, being open to new opportunities.

The year didn't end on the happiest note. I felt like my life had unraveled by the end with various relationships and my frustrating job. I hope that this year I can focus on the joy and let go of the sadness. It's never been easy for me. I so easily hone in on pain. I sometimes forget that there are other ways to feel alive.

It's difficult to remain soft when you feel beaten down. I don't want to become hardened to life, but I fear I'm already jaded.

I'm trying to be a positive role model for Yoshi, so I have to constantly remind myself to stay positive, not complain too much to her, and show her the beauty in life. Or rather, follow her example and let her show me the way. Kids have a beautiful way of seeing things for what they are.

Happy New Year, yes.

Things floating around in my head

... thoughts, one might call them.

Lazing about this weekend, spending entire mornings in bed, putzing online, listening to music, drinking coffee. Blogging. Reflecting. Being still. Trying to figure out my shit, this lifelong process.

Chatting again with C-pan earlier this week about what 2014 will bring, what are our intentions for this upcoming year.

Thinking about an entire year, what I want, feels completely overwhelming. I don't have a difficult life by any means, but sometimes I can only take things one day at a time. Though really, I suppose that's all any of us can do since today is all we truly have.

But it's important to take time to reflect. I mean, if I can put at least 40 hours a week into work, I should be able to spend at least one hour a week to find ways to improve myself.

I feel like I've been filling my time with distractions lately, but thinking more about them, perhaps 'distractions' is not the correct word. Perhaps I'm just living life, just not doing the things I thought I would be doing, what I thought I wanted to be doing. Evolving, adapting to change. Yes, these things. Darwin would approve.

I recently made a new friend. A single mom. She's very cool with a strong sense of self, which I greatly admire. I invited her out for drinks Tuesday evening and we went to Southern Pacific Brewery, a place I had never been to before, but was on my radar. Food was yummy. I enjoyed their wine on tap.

We bitched about the joys of dating; who we're "inappropriately texting," as she calls it; how we juggle parenting, friends, work, any semblance of romantic relationships, and getting some alone time.

We also discussed being judged for being "young" single mothers. Like me, she was 25 when she had her first child, which is fairly young compared to most educated, urban professionals who start having kids in their 30s. She confessed feeling snubbed by other older parents at our kids' elementary school, feeling like she's not taken seriously because of her status of being a less-than 40-year-old with three kids, single. No one cares or assumes that she was at one point like them, married, planned out having these children, yes, just like them.

In my case, a good chunk of these parents who know me still don't know that I'm single, so I don't necessarily get the pleasure of judgement bestowed upon me. I don't wear a sign or a letter on my chest with my marital status posted. In lieu of judgement, I receive pity when I inform them. The side nod and apology: Oh, I'm sorry. Are you okay? It's okay if you don't want to talk about it. I don't want their pity. Don't assume I'm home crying over it. I'm not. I've made peace with that long ago. Divorce doesn't necessarily mean bad, but that's the general assumption. Okay, the road to divorce may be bad, but an amicable separation is good, much better than, say, an empty marriage filled with heartache.

Ending something that isn't working = opening doors for something good to happen.

Possibilities. Hope. Happiness.

As I sit here, in bed still, drinking my coffee and eating my whatever's-in-the-fridge egg scramble for brunch, ideas for what I visualize for 2014 are trickling in...

I intend to take better care of myself physically. Eating well, living a healthy lifestyle (uh... with drinking), exercise.

I intend to take better care of myself emotionally. Making time to reflect, be still, perhaps join another therapy group.

I intend to continue to stay connected to my feelings and not be afraid to express them. This one is very hard for me, but perhaps the key to my happiness.

I intend to express gratitude. So often I take people for granted. Life is precious. I'm learning to appreciate my friends, family, even strangers I meet for what they add to my life, or to life in general.

With gratitude, also comes acceptance. I'm making progress with accepting people for who they are. I cannot change them.

I intend to be open to new opportunities and experiences. This one has been a side-effect of all the transitions I experienced this year. I want this to continue. It's proven to be fascinating.

Change had always given me anxiety, as I am a creature of habit. The unknown terrified me, because, as a pessimist, I always assumed the worst would happen. But somewhere along the way my thought patterns changed. I became optimistic. And somewhere along the way change became something I could enjoy, embrace even.

Oh, for sure change can still be scary as hell. But sometimes just as wildly thrilling.

And that's the nature of life, isn't it? Constant change.

And so, I'll close with this.

“I'm not sentimental – I'm as romantic as you are. The idea, you know, is that the sentimental person thinks things will last – the romantic person has a desperate confidence that they won't.” ― F. Scott Fitzgerald, This Side of Paradise