Happy New Year!

Saw the old year out, and the new one in, with a touch of the flu — body aches, low-grade fever, upset stomach and woozy head.  Managed to get to a friend’s party, but we were out of there by 11:30 and I was in bed by 11:45, sound asleep by 11:46 and poor husband had to see in the new year on his own.  Sorry about that, love.

Hope this isn’t an indication of how the rest of the year is going to go . . . .

Now it’s daylight, almost 2:00 pm and here I lie on the couch with pillow and blanket, accompanied by two cats.  Not a bad way to begin the year, actually.  Low-key, stress-free, relaxing.  I don’t feel in tip-top form, but that will come and being a bit “down for the count” gives me the luxury to sit here, muse over the past year, and anticipate what’s to come.

Made your resolutions yet?

I’m not certain I believe in them.  They strike me as ways for people to feel bad about themselves.  Let’s face it — how many of us make resolutions and NEVER break them?  Not many, I’d bet.  The trick is to not beat yourself up over it.  It’s like being on a diet — so you fall off the wagon.  Big deal.  Get back on.  We all make mistakes.  The trick is to not make the mistake a habit.

With that in mind, what are MY resolutions this year?  It’s a motley bag, rest assured.

More exercise and less excuses.  More writing and less excuses.  Finish “Call of Blood” and begin “A Woman Scorned.”  Write several short stories.  See “Weathercock” a reality in my hot little hands and sell many, many copies of it.  Go forward in life with a larger heart.  Stand up for myself.  Not get involved in the emotional turmoil of others.  Keep a distance from family wrangling.  Spend time with the people who bring me joy and keep to a minimum the time I have to spend with people who don’t.  Lose the “friends” I need to lose and make new ones.  Enjoy myself.  Find some beauty and blessing in every day.  Don’t take things so personally all the time.  And (unfortunately) to not be quite so trusting.  (My trust has taken a huge bruising this year.)

There’ll be more, I’m sure, but that’s enough for now.  A weighty list.  I wonder how I’ll do?


About Melissa Crandall

A million years ago--round-about the first Ice Age--I cut my writing teeth on fanzines and science fiction media tie-in novels. I'm happy to say that I've since branched out to include fantasy, horror, essays, and narrative nonfiction. This site will keep you up-to-date on my adventures in writing. I live in Connecticut with my husband--who frequently wonders what he got himself into by marrying a writer--two cats named Tuna and Gypsy, and a semi-neurotic Australian shepherd named Holly.
This entry was posted in Connecticut, CT, Essays, Holiday, Honesty, Melissa Crandall, Memoir, Truth, Writer, Writing and tagged , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

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