Good Glass of Whine

I remember the good old days, when a glass of milk and maybe a cookie seemed like heaven after a straining day of trig and French grammar. Now, after a day of sitting in an office or standing behind a counter, all I really want when I come home are two things: a glass of red wine and someone to bitch about my day to.

I don't think that there is anything as satisfying (well, okay, maybe not anything...) like being able to vent all the negative little things you just have to swallow at work by explaining how stupid things/people/public tranportation really is when you get right down to it to someone considerate and patient enough to just listen and nod vigorously. And yes, the thereby emerging rants often constist of very long and not always complete sentences.

What shouldn't be forgotten though is the many thanks and possible kisses the person on the receiving end of the oh so necessary venting deserves. And that the positions can easily be inverted. So have a bottle of red ready at any times: you never know who's about to start bitching.

Writer's Guilt

There are many different writing projects that I should be attending to right now but I don't seem to be able to get myself in the right kind of mood to do so. It's not like writer's block, it's just this emotional thing where I go "Jeez, do I really have to?". It's the "have to" part that bothers me, I think. Even though I (mostly) work well under pressure, until the deadline that's been creeping up on me for a while is jumping me right in the face I don't feel compelled to even start thinking about what I want to write. You can't even call it a bad attitude, it's more of a lack of attitude.

But I should get to it, right? I'd feel so much better, I know I would. The curse would not be lifted but at least the guilt of not doing what I should be doing would fade. Ugh. I wish my evil twin could write as fast as me, then I could just order her to do it all at the last second and then feel smug about it. What is she up to these days, anyway? She's probably stealing nuclear warheads or something. Although, we usually don't think that big. Maybe she's just stealing maple syrup out of an unsuspecting family's fridge. Imagine, just as the pan-savvy dad sets down the very full plate of deliciously smelling pancakes in front of the children, the mom shrieks as she realizes that "Oh no! Someone stole the maple syrup!". The kids cry, mom and dad initially start to panic but then realizes that they'll have to pull through, because no matter what, those pancakes have to be eaten. Standing outside and listening to the moving scene, my evil twin giggles as she takes a sip from the syrup bottle, defying everything dentists and dieticians have ever taught us.

A Discovery Most Foul

The stench of my own betrayal is clogging up my nostrils (as well as all the muckus that I've been producing thanks to that lovely flu I caught) as I have discovered that in the last three years combined I have written less than half of what I wrote in 2008 alone. And I believe that it is less of an issue of quality vs. quantity and more of a sign that my authorial sloth has reached it's peak. I am sabotaging myself, and it must end.

So, no more, I say! Hereby I swear that I shall write more in this glorious year of 2011 than I've ever written in a year! Ha, if that isn't a formidable expression of a young woman's resolve invoked by the beginning of a new year, then I do not know what is.

Resolve of the Regular Wonder Woman

I didn't bother with the ritual of formulating new year resolutions that "I'm really going to stick to this time!", like a new diet. No, I'm still a sucker for the heavenly sins that are pizza, red curry and fried hofan noodles with vegies. However, I figure that life is getting more interesting with the opening of every new chapter that passing into a new year represents. I'm just assuming that we're getting wiser along the way and are therefore more capable of embracing change in ourselves and the world.

But who am I, Oprah? I'm all about personal growth but in the end the things that got on my nerves in 2010 are probably still going to bug me in 2011. And that doesn't really bother me. But I am starting to wonder whether there's something I can do about these factors of annoyance and outrage, beyond blogging about them of course.

I feel moved, nay, entitled to be a shaker and breaker and start working on the things that seem less than okay to me like animal rights or rudeness or my own laziness when it comes to...well, a lot of things actually. So I'll haul out my golden lasso and try to achieve something I can be proud of 'til the end of the year.

Ha, well there you go, the natural revolve that rests in all of us, but that only really emerges around that time of the year, has lifted my spirits and will hopefully guide me in these coming twelve months. I really wonder how that's going to work out.