DiSCoVeRy
I'm so determined this year.
There's so much that I need to do... there's a strong desire in me to make my resolutions (for I do have resolutions) stick- not treat them with the natural slipperiness with which they're endowed. This year, 2012, can't be about bullshit.
I don't want Dec 31, 2012 to meet me with my head spinning, wondering where all the time has gone.
Each minute is one I won't get back, so I have to spend them profitably.
In the waning weeks of 2011, I wrote myself something of a manifesto.
It was so long I wondered if I could stick to it all. Then I saw it as everyone else did. A series of imperatives to which you're not held accountable.
And why? I have no idea if this year will be my last, after all, so I ought to live each day like it was priceless, shoudn't I?
Who knew I'd find God at the bottom of two Judith Krantz novels?? Revelation after revelation in what is for all intents and purposes silly junk.
I discovered I don't breathe. Literally. I hold my breath and don't take it all the way, I'm that tense.
I discovered that I have to re-internalize discipline, one of my country's National Watchwords. (Does America have National Watchwords??) With discipline, I will conquer my debt, lose weight and buy a house.
I also noted that my writing should be templated on the Judith Krantz superstructure.
She never made any pretense to great literature; however, her books are unputdownable without being embarrassingly light.
I can conquer my dependence on meds. I hate this junk in my body and I'm determined to quit it.
I can stop thinking of myself as disposable or interchangeable. The idea that someone would want me enough to pursue me, avidly, is not ridiculous, but I discovered that this is the way I see relationships. I am the Rudolf Valentino, the pursuer, the seducer. And while there's a certain fairy glamour in that, I need to see that I'm worth some work on someone else's part.
Life is fun: I'm going to try it. It's ok to fall down. It might be a bit embarrassing, but I won't die of embarrassment. I can't spend days, nights, excruciating, agonizing minutes, worrying. I've done enough of that. Worry never makes any situation better or clearer. It just digs a deeper whole for more crap.
I'm really, really strong. I've come so far. I'm not going to worry about maturity or wisdom any more. When I need it, I'll have it.
And always: tout ca va s'arranger.
Everything always works out.
There's so much that I need to do... there's a strong desire in me to make my resolutions (for I do have resolutions) stick- not treat them with the natural slipperiness with which they're endowed. This year, 2012, can't be about bullshit.
I don't want Dec 31, 2012 to meet me with my head spinning, wondering where all the time has gone.
Each minute is one I won't get back, so I have to spend them profitably.
In the waning weeks of 2011, I wrote myself something of a manifesto.
It was so long I wondered if I could stick to it all. Then I saw it as everyone else did. A series of imperatives to which you're not held accountable.
And why? I have no idea if this year will be my last, after all, so I ought to live each day like it was priceless, shoudn't I?
Who knew I'd find God at the bottom of two Judith Krantz novels?? Revelation after revelation in what is for all intents and purposes silly junk.
I discovered I don't breathe. Literally. I hold my breath and don't take it all the way, I'm that tense.
I discovered that I have to re-internalize discipline, one of my country's National Watchwords. (Does America have National Watchwords??) With discipline, I will conquer my debt, lose weight and buy a house.
I also noted that my writing should be templated on the Judith Krantz superstructure.
She never made any pretense to great literature; however, her books are unputdownable without being embarrassingly light.
I can conquer my dependence on meds. I hate this junk in my body and I'm determined to quit it.
I can stop thinking of myself as disposable or interchangeable. The idea that someone would want me enough to pursue me, avidly, is not ridiculous, but I discovered that this is the way I see relationships. I am the Rudolf Valentino, the pursuer, the seducer. And while there's a certain fairy glamour in that, I need to see that I'm worth some work on someone else's part.
Life is fun: I'm going to try it. It's ok to fall down. It might be a bit embarrassing, but I won't die of embarrassment. I can't spend days, nights, excruciating, agonizing minutes, worrying. I've done enough of that. Worry never makes any situation better or clearer. It just digs a deeper whole for more crap.
I'm really, really strong. I've come so far. I'm not going to worry about maturity or wisdom any more. When I need it, I'll have it.
And always: tout ca va s'arranger.
Everything always works out.
posted by euphoria at 11:28 AM
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