Another New Year
January 3, 2017. If I want to stay true to my New Year's resolution to start writing again then I am already two days behind. For the past dozen years I've spent every start of the new year at our vacation home in Loreto Bay, Baja California. So it is here in the remote and relaxed environment of vacationing that I am supposed to reflect on my life's progress and, consequentially, my shortcomings. Maybe I am more satisfied than I think because coming up with resolutions feels like a hollow exercise. When pressed I come up with the standard: I should wake up earlier, get and stay fit, stay off the internet, read more, bring dinner to the table every night, be more social, give more to others, work on my Spanish, blah, blah, blah. And what did I accomplish on January 1st? I think I swung my arms a little more vigorously on my afternoon walk while imagining my better self in 2017 and I brought a carrot to the neighborhood donkey. But later in the evening boredom set in and I was back surfing the internet to past midnight and sleeping late into the next morning.
On January 2nd I scolded myself and proceeded to take a book to the toilet (read more) an impressive account of Winston Churchill that my sister-in-law left behind. I was using as a book mark my list of New Year's resolutions. I'd written them on a blank Christmas card since I had no notepad or paper. Winston, at age 24, was about to run for a seat in Parliament when I skimmed over my list wondering if perhaps I might have been light on expectations. Maybe I should add a more specific and challenging resolution or maybe take my existing resolutions up a notch such as: write a novel, train for a marathon, bake artisan bread, actually become fluent in Spanish. I flushed the toilet. That's when the card fell from the book into the bowl.
It's January 3rd and I'm more confounded than ever. Am I supposed to wait for higher inspiration to give me more worthy resolutions, as mine, seemingly, were garbage? Or do I just proceed without any because my life is so unimportant. This latter sentiment has taken hold of me I confess. I grow more irrelevant by the year and truth is, horror of horrors, I'm not as interested as I once was at becoming a better person. Of course I don't want to degenerate into a useless and ungrateful life form, but I'm just not as excited by the game of improving. So, Feliz Ano Nuevo and Bueno Suerte to everyone on the road to self improvement. I'll catch up with you later.
On January 2nd I scolded myself and proceeded to take a book to the toilet (read more) an impressive account of Winston Churchill that my sister-in-law left behind. I was using as a book mark my list of New Year's resolutions. I'd written them on a blank Christmas card since I had no notepad or paper. Winston, at age 24, was about to run for a seat in Parliament when I skimmed over my list wondering if perhaps I might have been light on expectations. Maybe I should add a more specific and challenging resolution or maybe take my existing resolutions up a notch such as: write a novel, train for a marathon, bake artisan bread, actually become fluent in Spanish. I flushed the toilet. That's when the card fell from the book into the bowl.
It's January 3rd and I'm more confounded than ever. Am I supposed to wait for higher inspiration to give me more worthy resolutions, as mine, seemingly, were garbage? Or do I just proceed without any because my life is so unimportant. This latter sentiment has taken hold of me I confess. I grow more irrelevant by the year and truth is, horror of horrors, I'm not as interested as I once was at becoming a better person. Of course I don't want to degenerate into a useless and ungrateful life form, but I'm just not as excited by the game of improving. So, Feliz Ano Nuevo and Bueno Suerte to everyone on the road to self improvement. I'll catch up with you later.
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