Okay,I exaggerate: panic on one street. Specifically,in my house. Nothing bad, nothing catastrophic, just a sudden influx of freelance writing due in a shot period of time. And it turns out that I tend to freak out a little bit if I take on a bunch of projects at the same time. Add to this the impending arrival of my mother-in-law and the messy state of the house, and mix liberally to achieve full-blown panic. I have no idea how to start tackling this big pile of work, so I’m flitting from room to room accomplishing very little (and blogging about it, which may or may not help).

But wait, there’s more! I have one more measly chapter to write for the fiction story to finish the thing off, but of course, my momentum on that project is crawling to a standstill. I’m so close to the end that I can’t muster up the energy to do that last little bit. And, the wife’s birthday is Thursday, so I have cake-making and present-wrapping to do. So very much on my plate, and I am by nature a very slothful human being. When will I exercise? Who knows?

But let me put focus back on the days success: Max returned to school after the holiday break, and despite some intense crying as we stood outside  of the classroom, he worked through it and had a great time. So good, that he was confident and delightful for the rest of the day. After powering up with a 2 hour nap, he was a dynamo of helpfulness, humour, and eating. The boy is gonna grow again.

Laziness is working against me even blogging in time for New Years, but here I am and off we go. New Years Eve! Not a big night for me, in terms of celebrations. I will be in bed and  asleep well before midnight. I’ve never had great affection for New years eve parties, since it always felt like I was uneasily hanging around hoping to be surprised by a miraculously great year.  But I won’t go so far as to say that it’s a meaningless evening.

The cynics, especially the ones who are love self-inflicted failure, look down on New Years as cliché, a night of empty promises that are quickly forgotten. And a lot of resolutions do get flushed away in January, because real change is devilishly hard to make stick. But don’t throw out the idea of the new year ritual.

Instead, start off by coming to terms with the idea of flexible success. If you look at your own progress in absolute terms, things start to look grim, so look at each challenge as a measure of your effort, and take pride in the learning that each attempt gives you. Keep trying.

This year taught me a lot of things (most of which are eluding me right now, because they think that’s funny). I learned more about being a good dad, about being a better writer, and a ton about putting honest effort into things. I think I’m starting to find  my voice as a writer (another concept that sounded cliché and hackneyed until it happened to me), and I’m moving towards a more harmonious life.

As for resolutions, I aim to slightly improve across the  board. I’ll get a little bit better at managing my time, make it to the gym a little bit more, put a little bit more effort into my personal grooming, do a little bit more cleaning during  the days. Boring, I know, but that’s a  side-effect from being pretty content. I don’t have a lot of monstrous vices lurking in the shadows.

So here’s to the New Year. Take it easy.

 

p.s. I think I broke my left pinky toe yesterday. It’s my first broken bone ever. Pretty anti-climactic. I wonder if  I’ll even get it x-rayed?