So here we are, beginning of the year. A time to take stock; to access the last twelve months and pass judgment upon one’s performance or lack thereof in many cases. Heads will be held high or hung low, backs will be patted or sympathies given. Either way there will have been a lot of drinking.
Well, I suppose it’s the end of the year that you’re supposed to do that. Just before the ball drops and the champagne pops. Completely arbitrary of course. The timing I mean. In the long run it doesn’t matter when you take stock, just so long as you do.
Speaking of arbitrary, I always felt the way the year was structured was just a bit off. I mean why do we (humans that is) start our year in the middle of winter? I always thought it would be a much better idea to begin the year in spring. You know, when things begin to be born and grow. That way our year would begin at a time of birth, mature into summer, slowly fade in autumn and then die in winter. Only to be born again in spring. Very symbolic. There is no reason I can tell for not structuring the year this way. We (humans I mean) came up with the whole concept of the “enumerating the passage of time” thing so I see no reason why it can’t be that way.
I guess it would only work symbolically in the northern hemisphere. The southern hemisphere being all backwards and everything (not to mention upside-down) but these are minor details in the long run.
I suppose that there is a perfectly reasonable and valid reason behind the choice to begin the year half way through winter. And if I had any inclination toward professionalism I would take five to ten minutes to Google it and post the results here. As it is I do not and so I won’t.
All of this is a digression of course. I digress often. I’m doing it right now. You see the point of this post was for me to honestly critique my own performance as a blogger and as a writer on this site. My site. The one I’m supposed to care for and love; the one that will make me famous or at least “known”.
When I sat down to write this that is exactly what my intention was. And yet 400 or so words in I have not even attempted to do so. And there lies the problem. I digress. Or to put it another way, I run.
I’ve run all my life. Physically and mentally. I could never stay in one place. I suppose I garnered a reputation as a traveler, an adventurer. Oh, that Paulie, he’s a free spirit ain’t he? Always doing something new, always moving. Fact is I’m just scared. I am not a brave man.
If I were a brave man I’d be able to sit still, I’d be present. I would be able to sit in this chair and write the way that I know I can. I would tell stories that would break your heart and make you laugh. If I were a brave man I would paint my dreams on canvas and rough paper. I would share more and not worry if what I feel or what I said will be taken the wrong way. If I were brave I would be kind. If I were brave I would not hide. If I were brave I would be better.
But I digress.
So, new year. How did I do? Assessment: Just okay. When I wrote, I wrote well. In fact in the last year there were several pieces that were excellent (if I say so myself). At times I was quite pleased indeed. There were several experiments that, while not being exactly successful, did yield interesting results and may lead to new things in the future. However, there were long and extended swaths of time where there was just nothing. Running time. That is unacceptable and not okay.
New Year resolution? That’s what is supposed to happen now, in this sort of post. I won’t disappoint:
Stop running. Be consistent. Be unafraid.
Failing that, just tell a good story.