Me

I suppose a "Happy New Year" is in order to you and yours.  Two days back from the quickest moving two weeks of vacation ever, and enter 2011.  Let's just start in shall we?  I don't believe in New Year's resolutions.  I think they are silly really.  I can make resolutions any moment of any day, and, frankly, will hold on to them better this way.  Who wants to start their new year off fucking up all ready.  The running joke seems to be how soon until you break your promises into the new year?  REALLY?  Why.

If I make a promise I mean it.  I will try so hard I screw myself up following through.  Over the years this has led me to make less promises for sure.  I have also learned that setting myself up for failure damages any sense of self-worth or confidence I achieved.  Every year I wish for a better year than the last, and hope that I survive the trials and tribulations I will face.  I also vow to try and win the lottery.

What will this year bring?  I would like to teach belly dance in more studios.  I would like to advance my Arbonne business.  I would like to be financially stable again.  All of these hopes hinge on my taking personal action to achieve them.  But don't mistake these for resolutions.  These are on going personal dreams.  There is no failure to be had here.  I will be me and work towards making my dreams a reality, but I will not destroy myself in the process.

I tried hard not to fill my FaceBook wall the first few days of the new year with negative comments about going back to work and not being on vacation anymore and O the misery.  I knew that coming back to the office was going to suck.  And I still harbor anger towards my paycheck writer for his inexcusable behavior regarding my time off.  But this I must face and do so with the least amount of self-fullfilling depression possible.  To my credit I've woken up before my alarm, although have stayed in bed for the cursory snooze anyway; I've packed my breakfast and lunch; I came home and actually played with and gave Anya a bath before I plopped on the couch exhausted; I went to bed at 8, but watched TV until 9:30...woohooo late night; totally fucked up my famously yummy split pea soup and had to throw it out - my bad; O and I put on makeup two days in a row for work - eveyyone said I look fab and did I change my hair - doh!  I'm still looking forward to the day I cash in my winning lottery ticket.

So here I am.  2011.  Anya turns 2 this year.  What the Fuck!  Yeah - did I tell you I vowed to have a trucker mouth this year?  I pulled my combat boots out of the closet too.  I look back at my blog with it's swiss cheese style and find it so painful still.  I always feel one step out of the midst...sometimes It catches up to me and I can't breath for a bit, but I keep running and have freedom for a time.  I almost want another child, but don't feel that it would be fair to do so in our financial rings of hell...not to mention my vodka therapy and I would love to start smoking again.  I put Manson in the CD player and blackened my eye makeup.  I feel tough as nails and miss my youth suddenly.  I had so much fun being reckless and carefree and me.  ...One thing I do resolve this year  is to be me.