29: The Year In Which I Will Significantly Lower ALL MY STANDARDS, Based On Past Experience

Before I get into this, I’d like to note the new blog design. New year, new blog design (my new year begins on my birthday because time is an arbitrary system of measure and because this way I get the known unpleasantries over with sooner; subtle differences).

Three things about the new design. Thing one: the header image is a couple of pics I took in Seattle in 2011, then edited to near-oblivion. Because that’s how I do it. Thing two: I have no idea what an “ouchy couch” is but I so want one. Thing three: tentacles are fucking adorable, I don’t care what anyone else has to say on the subject.

Moving on…


And it happens to be my first yearly birthday angst post on the New Blog. Is that confetti-worthy? No? Just me? Moving on.

I’ll start with the rationale behind these: Whenever I evaluate my life, I get all spirally-depressive about everything I haven’t accomplished and start mourning all that could have been and all that never will be.

This used to happen once on my birthday and once on New Year’s Day…

Until! I got the idea to condense it down to one day a year I’d be guaranteed to spend moping around, reading young adult romance novels and listening to The Cure (as you do) and be done with it—and apparently I’m such a raging egotist that choosing Not My Birthday for that dubious honor was never even considered. Clever, right?

Moving on.

The list of things I wanted by this year (written last year):

  • To be living in Not Montana
  • In a decent house
  • Have a (real) job
  • Have some money saved up
  • English degree finished
  • Have written a novel I don’t want to burn
  • At least one more tattoo and a couple new piercings

What I accomplished from that list:

  • Absolutely fuckall!
  • Okay, that’s a lie: I have four more piercings since that was written.
  • Everything else… not so much.

This past year, I:

  • Dyed my hair a lot of fun colors… but had to cut off all progress I’d made growing it out (due to chemical damage) and pick a “normal” color (no more bleach!).
  • Got a job… but had a breakdown and quit job.
  • Am enrolled in fall semester… but this isn’t what I want to do.
  • Wrote some stuff… but I hate it.
  • Came closer to accepting the fact that people are not for me.

By this time next year, I want to:

  • Be enrolled in hair school.
  • Have a shitty job to pay the bills.
  • Have some money saved up.
  • Have written at least one thing I’d be sort of okay with letting another human-ish being read.
  • Be following my Seekrit Writing Plan.
  • Not hate how my hair looks all the time.
  • Have a new tattoo (but I think I’ve got enough piercings… maybe).

Aaand, back to The Cure.*


*As something of a carryover from the Old Blog, I feel compelled to note that I’m not actually listening to The Cure (… yet). I’m listening to Gary Numan. Exile, specifically.