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. 

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.