Everything Changes

It’s the second week of a new year. I didn’t make any resolutions this year, and haven’t done for quite a few. The last time I did make a resolution, I was totally enthralled with how unique and edgy I was being by making resolutions that I wanted to break. So quirky, right? Well, no.

The new year begins, and the clock resets, but there’s no blank slate. There’s never a proper time to start on something new if it’s important to you. Your last hurrah, your last spasm of freedom before the confines of a new venture presses your liberty into submission. It’s not real. I understand the appeal. It’s a lot easier to compartmentalise your approach to writing, weight, love, life, procrastination or puns if you can draw a line across a calendar and say “It starts here. This is when everything changes.”

It can. I’m sure it works for some people, but there’s a reason people make resolutions every year. They have to.

As you’ve no doubt noticed, I’m fairly cynical. I’m not judging those people for making resolutions, because I firmly believe they intend to do what they want to, but we are all human. There are things that aren’t beyond us, but that we fail at anyway. Every time I start a new blog, I really do think I’m going to maintain a consistent post rate. I have had some circumstances that’ve made doing so on this one a little tougher lately, but no real excuse. It’s in the forefront of my mind, because it’s about a year since I last started a new blog.

I could’ve continued that one instead of starting this one, but going back to it felt shameful, like I was admitting to failure. It was easier to cannibalise the content there (which wasn’t that much, truth be told) and use it here, than it was to resume posting on a dead blog. The blank slate, once again. My wife is more pragmatic. She had a blog that saw similar levels of activity to my previous one, and decided it worked for her to just start posting on it again.

I suppose it’s one of the things I need to improve on. I do get caught up on appearing proper, appearing functional and trying to present myself as someone reliable. You could say it’s a sore point with me, because I never really feel like I do enough. I don’t even know if enough exists, whether or not it’s something attainable. There’s a point in life though, where you need to let go of the external. Do your best, yes, but don’t get caught up in how others appraise you. It’s stupid, but I’ve always worried about it too much, yet would only dwell on it. If somebody read my intentions wrong, I’d let them. I’d also worry.

The point here is that I didn’t make resolutions at the very start of the year. I didn’t really start on anything I intended to over the past week, and it doesn’t matter. If I want change, I can take action now. From now. I don’t need to delay until the end of the month before I start writing, or start neatly on a commemorative date, or with a new blog or book. I don’t need to give myself a last fancy meal before I start eating healthier, and I don’t need to keep ties to people that’ve since moved on. I won’t be doing any post-a-day/post-a-week challenges (obviously), but I can still write.

Broken or missing resolutions don’t mean you’ve failed at what you want to do. A lapse isn’t the same as stopping, and you don’t need a blank slate to start working at your goals. When you’re inspired by something, that’s when you act.


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