Happy New Year, everyone!
Well, 2005 is only three days old and already I'm busted, in terms of my goals, objectives and aspirations for this year....
"I promise not to be as cranky as I was last year."
Poof.
Or, loophole: "...as cranky" means there's still some wiggle room to be cranky... (evil grin).
Actually, I'm thinking more in the long-term, averaged over time....
Okay, I'm rambling, but it's late and I've had a weird day.
I do have things I want to accomplish this year. I have many, many, many unfinished projects that need to be completed, and already I'm pressed for time, since I'm working "temp" on-site at an office for the next week or so, as well as having two newsletters and an article (another article!) to write. (Money is good.)
I want to write more fiction, and get it "out there" in the hopes that something will click, right time, right place, right editor... (if wishes were horses, I'd be buried in manure right now).
I want my poor health to be less poor health and more good health.
I want to be more patient with my father, which, I confess, gets harder and harder to do. I don't know if it's my impatience or his orneriness that's the issue; probably a combination of both. (He's back to trying to control my life again. See, I'm 47 years old but I'm too stupid to know how to count to ten on my fingers without using my toes. It was ever thus; but more so now.)
I want to try new things, and not be so afraid of change. (Another ghost from my past: going to seven schools in four cities before the age of eleven made me most desirous of things staying the same for extended periods of time; but I am finding that I've been "staying the same" for so long now, it is holding me back instead of making me feel secure, so it's time to be a bit more adventurous than I have been.)
I need to get out more. The last seven years in my old apartment were horrendous - I never went out because where I lived there was nowhere to go, and no one ever came over because I lived too far away from anyone to come and visit. Now I'm in the heart of downtown Toronto, and still I stay home... now, that's just silly! Not to mention I've only had my business colleague over because I'm hiding the fact that I bought a sofa (I owe a friend of mine some money, and I have been forbidden from buying anything for my place until I pay said friend off. Thank goodness for Visa....)
I need to find better paying work. I'm tired of working for nickles and dimes; but I know that getting a full-time job will drive me back into depression and I can't afford that, either emotionally or financially. (I have a very busy mind; it needs constant stimulation, and the only way I can get that is if I have a variety of things to do. Doing the same job day after day after day without hope of promotion or advancement or the opportunity to learn anything new has twice sent me to the brink, and even thinking about a full-time job has my hands shaking and me breaking out in a cold sweat.)
I have decided that this year, I am going to buy a keyboard and go back to playing music. I think a lot of the angst I've been suffering over the past 14 years is because I gave up music. (Well, at the time, it seemed like the only thing to do.) I'll never be any good at it, but it gives me enough satisfaction just to practice.
I'm still thinking of running for city council, but I'm not sure I'm ready for that yet.
I like doing things for other people, but I've never found a satisfactory outlet for it that I can squeeze into my schedule (work for money always has to come first, since being a freelancer, work can evaporate at a moment's notice). I used to be a lector in my church; people liked listening to me because I had a good, strong, clear voice, they could hear me even at the back of the church, and I read the lessons as if they were stories, and so folks sat up and paid attention - it wasn't just buzzing coming down from the lectern. I felt I was doing something to contribute to the mass and giving something to the congregation - my speaking voice and my expression was my gift (heaven forfend I should sing, though!). I haven't been to church since my stepmother died, since I have to call my father at precisely 9 a.m. Sunday morning, or suffer dire consequences at upsetting his routine for the day. And, alas, I'm now living in the Archdiocese of Toronto, which means NO WOMEN ALLOWED near the altar to assist in the mass (the farther away a church is from the Archdiocese, the more relaxed the unwritten rules are).
(I'm considering volunteering at St. Mike's hospital, or perhaps down at the Toronto Humane Society. I can get along with just about any dog or cat, and since I've decided against getting a pet as long as I'm living in an apartment, this might satisfy my needs regarding pets.)
I have lost my capacity for patience with the elderly, I'm ashamed to admit. My father has been driving me round the bend ever since my stepmother died, and each year he finds new ways of being difficult that always seem to catch me off guard. I try to be a good daughter; I've done the best I could, but I will never, ever measure up to his expectations of me. I'm single; I'm childless; therefore, I'm worthless. Worse, I'm stupid and a bad person because I won't do as he tells me; I have failed in life because I won't live my life according to his rules.
Because of this, I no longer have the patience to sit with the elderly and be 'company' for them. The constant barrage of bitterness and complaints and harangues and ravings and sometimes downright hatred I get from my father has pretty much made me gun-shy in this regard. I don't want to be impatient or unkind; but I don't want to be buried in any more of another person's bitterness, either.
These are the things I've put on my list of goals and objectives for this year. I hope they are not selfish, or self-serving. I just want to be happy so that I can spread it around.