Here’s the deal. I love making lists. I have this little pad of paper that must have started with a thousand white squares, but is now a flimsy thing with an adhesive strip taller than the actual pad of notes. Like standard sticky notes, sans sticky. Every day I make a to-do list, most days just copying over the things I didn’t do the day before and adding one or two more things. Usually things like laundry (done), laundry away (not yet; still in a pile on the floor).
But other times — actually, most of the time — I make mental lists. Of things I’m going to do in the great wide “later.”
I tell myself that once I get my crazy life in order, after only giving myself one week between graduating college and starting my Big Girl Job, I’m going to spend a year reading only the 65 books and counting that I own but haven’t cracked the spine of yet. No, I’ll spend that first year post-grad reading only classic literature — the stuff I should have been reading all this time. No, I’ll try to knock out as many of the 1,001 Books You Must Read Before You Die as I can. On second thought, I’ll just spend that time reading anything — but definitely meeting that 50-books-in-a-year goal. (I read 56 books (15 of those 71 were short stories) in 2013, how sweet is that?)
I’ll write more. For this lovely blog and also for my adorably embarrassing speckled composition notebooks I’ve been scribbling in for six years. Maybe I’ll even get some creative juices flowing and submit some work to actual publications — but let’s keep it small with the blog.
I’ll read more articles that are relevant to the world, not just the vapid listicles about What Life is Really Like in Your 20s.
I’ll learn more tricks of my trade. I’ll find more ways to be creative and make pretty newspapers.
I’ll do all the crafty projects I’ve had pinned for ages. I’ll create things that make my home feel like a real home, not just a place where I sleep and keep my life’s treasures.
But when is this “later”? It’s always swallowed up in the monotony of doing laundry and making sure I eat three times a day. And bingeing on TV shows I didn’t even know I would like. And tweeting. And napping. Wash, rinse, repeat.
Oops: I wrote this post in August and let it get dusty in my drafts. How convenient is it that I opened it up on January 1? Let’s go ahead and call these my resolutions, just for tradition’s sake.
Reflection time: Last year’s resolutions sounded ridiculously impossible, but I did it.
Read one book a month for fun — check (I think)
Don’t skip class unless actually sick — check (I was sick of going to class)
Only drink soda in desperate times — check
Don’t associate with people who suck — check
Spend less time on the Internet — check (I’ve gotten too busy with real life)
Don’t use phone in bed — that one’s never going to stop
Write more — check (I never defined what “more” was, but I think I’ve accomplished it)
Graduate — check!
Get a Big Girl Job — check!!!