Resolutions and Memories of 2008

Blogging for the sake of blogging isn't always the smartest idea. I could be and am thinking of too many things to be coherent. Yet I feel that I'm not putting enough of me into the moulding box of this blog and when the cast is chipped away there will be a very imperfect sample of my year.

This year has been about possibilities and boundaries. It has been risky, motivating and scary in parts. I am afraid that the alertness I feel is just due to freshness of the situation and when the bloom is nipped I will return to my old ways. Pact, Bloggy. I will not. You hold me to it, okay? The point of this blog is for me to come back and remember and be glad I don't regret. I've been pleased to be able to read my old posts with nonchalance. (Shrug) so here I am and there I was, there is no real time capsule from the past me to me now. Yet, if things went wrong and I looked back, I think I would writhe.

So, Pact. No writhing. No disappointing people. It's not exactly a resolution, its more a brake. No backsliding but I may go where I will.

And this year, my parents have become very involved with the engagement. As they see it, its their last duty. As I see it, I can't fathom why they would. They should have washed their hands of me already; the deed never matching up to the idea and promise. Anyway, I don't understand the need of spending money on a wedding. This is really all for them.

I've never felt less inclined to defend myself, be defensive. Maybe I'm becoming a whole person, but I fear that to be whole and totally independent of feedback is dangerous. No real fear of that. I'm plenty shrinking violet still.


My dearest friends, my books. I can't read fantasy any more. I feel unsatisfied and seem to see author wish-fulfilment in every page and plot point. I'm beginning to feel LOTR withdrawal. I want a movie, to reread the book entirely, deeply, in a sitting, alone. I want the words on the page to embrace the impressions in my memory. I want to feel it in my bones, my marrow. But other than that I want people on my pages, not dolefully sad, not flippantly happy, not grim-jawed or comic relief material, not built of single dimensions. I want to read of lives and loves, but real. In the same breath I will admit to wanting to read trash to simply get my mind out of work. A roll down the windows, let the breeze blow through the stuffy car. Never mind that I won't really remember the breeze, but the fusty interior of my car-brain will be fresher for it.

And the bitter bitter cold. I am going to have to go through these months in my intrepid polar explorer mode. Expect many blogs on my mishaps and triumphs in the winter.

Finally, I must make all of this pay off. I am deeply in debt in many ways of the word. I must be found solvent in all those meanings. Financially, my loan; emotionally, my friends; intellectually, my new friends.

Every day I live a little, every day I die a little
Sap like this post, I suspect kills me just the little bit faster.
So with a theatrical sneer at naysayers and the petty
With a downwards glance when faced by the rest, I'm going back to all the other stuff I do.