Ugh, Resolutions


Diet, exercise more, and get skinny? Nah. Been there, done that, I think I’ve peaked, people. I’m over it. I don’t want it as badly as I want cheeseburgers anymore. Sorry ‘bout that future hubby, ya’ shoulda hurried the hell up!

Cuss less? I considered that, but let’s get one damn thing straight—I don’t give a fuck.

Write more? I considered that too, but one blog a month is already getting to be a pain in the ass and the novel needs at least a full summer of attention, so that’ll have to wait.

Something gross and relationship-y? Like “be more open to love” or “stop being so open to love” ha! This could work. But ick. Who wants their resolution to be about boys…doesn’t enough revolve around those bastards already? Let me tell you something ladies, if you haven’t already figured this one out: even the ones that seem nice are disgusting pigs. You just gotta wait for the one whose disgustingness doesn’t make you wanna puke (now that’s a resolution).

Get a tattoo? Clean more? Pay off my loans? Apply to a PHD program? Yawn. I can’t think of anything worthy.

When I was in Sydney for New Years, my friends said that 2013 was the best year of their lives, hands down. That worried me…I mean, I definitely did the most I’ve ever done in one year in 2013, but I’d never say it was my BEST. I spent time in Hawaii, Japan, Thailand, Texas, and Australia. I was published, I got my masters, I got a new job, met new friends…but I feel like I’ve been happier. A long time ago. A year that I hardly traveled anywhere or did anything at all…but I was carefree, I was content without trying to be, without thinking about it at all.

 So I think that’ll be my resolution. To make sure 2014 is my BEST year yet. To make sure that on NYE this year, I can say that without a doubt. Should be easy enough, right?

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