2022 Journaling Resolution

Let’s see how long this one lasts.

It’s 11.19 am on January 1st, 2022. The birds are singing outside my window. The day is overcast, threatening to rain again. While rain is my favourite weather, I think we’ve all had enough of rain for now. My brain is foggy from lack of sleep, and no, I didn’t spend too much time outdoors. I was 35 in 2021 — I’ll be 36 in 2022. No, I spent it browsing the web after playing video games.

What have I done in 2021? Well let’s see.

A Digital Certificate!
  1. Won NaNoWriMo. That’s right, I wrote a novel in 2021! My very first.
  2. Lost over 6kg. All indications are that I’ve kept it off, which I think deserves its own entry.
  3. Kept off 6kg. Yup.

That’s about it. I’m most proud of Number 1, though. The resulting novel, Ironheart, isn’t good at all but I’ve proven to myself I can do it, if I just set my mind to it. Maybe I don’t have anything to say right now that needs something novel length. But when I do, I know it’s possible.

So take my 2022 New Years Resolutions a bit differently. They’re less ‘resolute’ than proper ‘resolutions’ and more things I plan to do. That way, there’s less guilt if I fuck it up, and let’s face it, I’m going to fuck it up. Embrace failure, but don’t be overwhelmed by it. Like all the concepts in our lives, I will treat this one like an old friend; invite them in and treat them to a drink and laugh at their jokes, but if they start doing something unacceptable (like asking for their steak well done or making eyes at my wife) I will ask them politely, yet firmly, to leave.

Anyhoo. Here’s the resolutions in no particular order:

Daily Journal

Yer lookin at it. I plan to write every morning, about stuff that I usually just keep in my head. Usually, when I wake up, there’s stuff rolling around inside the old noggin, probably residual charge from the neurons firing during sleep. Used to be in my head is where I keep them. No longer. All shall be revealed. Muahahaha.

The topics aren’t set in stone and I will journal about whatever I damn well feel like. So expect an eclectic and eccentric array of topics ranging from history, geopolitics and economics to ranting about the declining size of chicken mcnuggets, finding rabbit poop in one’s hair the morning after and even waxing poetic about Belle Delphine’s OnlyFans.

The point is, nobody knows, all right? I am not subbed to her OF. Or I am. What is this, 20 questions? I’m a CONSENTING ADULT.

First I wondered if a lot of stuff I write is suitable for publication. I’d only recently got it into my head that posting stuff online is publication, despite a published author telling me not exactly outright that it is. However, the more I think about it, the less I care. Read. Or don’t. Nazis and racists and crazy people don’t care about how they’re perceived online. The more I hold myself back the more space and time I give to them. My content’s not that much better, but at least one thing I do know for sure is that I do not want to be a bigot, and so if you say what I write is offensive I’m more likely to go ‘Sorry, I didn’t know’ than ‘So much for the tolerant left’.

Also decided to journal in a blog format, because that’s what we called online journals back in ye olde days. Blogs. We called them blogs. As soon as my brain made the connection that journal = blog, I decided to perform some necromancy and resurrect this blog from the grave, and see how long it lasts this time. Blog. Bloooog. Buh loooooooooog. Nope, still doesn’t seem like a real word to me.

Write More

This actually came after the above, believe it or not. Being a self proclaimed writer, I get frustrated when I can’t write stuff. Like, ooh, I want to write a horror story, but I don’t know about what. I can’t even think of examples right now. Then the frustration and impostor syndrome sets in, and we don’t have to check the schedule to know depression’s just around the corner.

This is a level of self doubt that I DO NOT NEED RIGHT NOW, THANK YOU VERY MUCH

Instead of trying to force it, though, I thought I’d force myself to sit down every day and chronicle my thoughts in blog form. One day, I’ll find something I want to write a story about. May become micro fiction. May become a poem. May end up being an epic saga of sixteen books and a hundred short story collections (I wish), but the point is, I won’t find it if I just sit around and mope all day. Nah fam. Gotta hustle.

The idea is that once I get used to writing every day, maybe one day my old man neurons will get a spark, and I’ll find some idea, and I’ll write, and it’ll end up getting written. I don’t know. I want to find out. Hence, the journalling, and the idea that if an idea is sparked inside my head, I shall not hesitate — I will begin the writing immediately, and translate that idea into reality. It may not be good — it may not be finished — but something new has been started, and maybe one day I will get better at this.

Read More

It’s common sense. To have more output, you need more input. The act of writing is putting out words and ideas and thoughts. How do you put more words, ideas and thoughts into your head? You read, dude. To use a gross metaphor, you can’t poop if you don’t eat.

Sorry. I did warn you about the content, though.

What will I read? Books, magazines, the warning label on the drug packet. Whatever. I have so many e — magazine and e — paper subscriptions it’s not funny. What is funny is that I have so many books in my house, and not all of them are read. So be it. I shall read.

The topics can be as random as the topics of this blog. For instance, I carry with me two books; one, The Personal MBA, for both instruction and inspiration, and the second, a book detailing the pre-history and history of the Souttheast Asian region. I told you they’d be random. I am also reading a book detailing the discovery of the Covid vaccine, and an issue of The Economist.

I have only just now realised that makes me sound like Abe Sapien from the Hellboy movie. “Four books at once, every day.” I love eggs, too, just not rotten ones. I should check myself for gills.

But yeah. The whole reading thing is going nicely. Finally…

Lose Weight

I put this last to avoid people scrolling down and rolling their eyes when they saw this. Ah, the classic ‘eat better and exercise more’ New Years’ Resolutions. If this says anything about me, it’s that I have a certain respect for tradition, and that you can’t really beat the classics.

My weight has been a thorn in my side since my early twenties. I’ve managed to lose, then regain weight so many times. Everytime someone posts something inspirational or motivational I am immediately put in mind of my weight loss journey. It’s always that one thing I’ve wanted so much, but have never ever been able to achieve.

I mean, I managed to write a novel before I managed to reach my goal weight. What does that say about me?

I’ve actually started in November. I weighed 110 kg then. As I write I weigh 104kg. So that’s 6kg off. Not a bad start, but let’s keep going. Let’s see how much I weigh by the end of this year. I may end up dead before the year is out, but hey — if I don’t kick it, we’ll see if I managed.

I don’t have any other resolutions. As I told a certain someone, I didn’t come up with this resolution list by making demands of myself. I thought about what I would like to do this year, and those things I’ve always put off and wanted to do but never did.

Memento Mori guides my decisions. One thing I’ve hoped for, when I die, is that it will be like taking a long trip. I’ve done everything I wanted to and haven’t left anything I couldn’t do without. I’ve packed everything I can and then, I can leave in peace instead of freaking out because I haven’t done things I wanted to or I’ve left the stove on. Maybe I’ll even look forward to it. I’ve done all I can here, hopefully I’ll think. What’s awaiting me on the other side?

Here’s to 2022. Hope yours is as good as I hope mine will be.

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