I spent my New Years Eve the same way as nearly every other: sleeping it away. I don't know why I begrudge traditional celebration so much. I'm honestly such a Grinch about social norms. I don't dress up for Halloween, I hate fireworks, and I don't usually celebrate events like 4th of July or New Years in the social sense. I can't help it! It's in my inherent nature to dissent, like my girl RGB.
I read an interesting piece this morning though, about picking words to exemplify your new year, rather than setting specific resolutions or intentions. As a logophile, this immediately appealed to me. Plus, I hate trying to set meaningful intentions when I'm lost in the abyss, as I have been lately.
My words for 2019 are Miraculous, Expand, and Evocative. These are words I use frequently in my journal and mantras, so they were pretty easy to come up with. Let me know if you develop some for yourself.
My long term job ended as November began. I'm editing part time right now and job searching (half heartedly, I'm going to tell you right now). All this to say I have no excuse to not be writing incessantly, every day. I should be getting my Faulkner on- "Don't be a writer, Be writing." Maybe now would be the time to actually complete a first draft of the allegorical novel I started writing bits and pieces of years ago. Or, to submit more articles since I had great success with one a few months ago.
Here's what I'm doing instead, to be perfectly honest with you: Reading. Constantly. Wandering aisles at the library and my local favorite, Browsers Bookstore. Dog-earing pages to return to and write down quotes, because A) I don't believe it's wrong to dog ear and B) I'm obsessed with recording and reflecting on favorite passages, re-visiting books and words with earnestness. Reading in the bath, on the couch, in cafes, in bed.
The good news is reading begets writing. One improves the other, both are essential limbs, and hopefully the chasm between the two will slowly close to a small ravine I can jump across. I'm at a loss for words right now to accurately reflect what I'm going through, so swimming around in the thoughts and stories of other people feels safe and secure. Reading is a distinct state between living and dreaming; Visualizing through someone else's eyes, losing time. All that is a welcome distraction while it lasts. Then I cry, or I call someone, or I drink a little too much. Because sometimes you just do what you can to accept the weighted sensation of groundlessness, and you try not to judge yourself for how you handle it, or for shit like not writing more.
"Maybe, just maybe, it's enough to give this story over to you, not to hold onto it any longer. To know that Spring is robust and fall is the beginning of the colored descent, and there is nothing you can do about either but receive it all and surrender to no perfect answer and allow no conclusion." -Natalie Goldberg
A few books I've chewed through recently:The Seat of the Soul - Gary Zukav
Insomniac City - Bill Hayes
Earth is Hiring - Peta Kelly
The Great Spring - Natalie Goldberg
Good Sex-Jennifer Graham
On Writing-Stephen King
And a past post with a list of some ultimate favorites:
[Photos from the currently roaring Little Mashel River Falls in Pack Forest]