I was going to call this entry ‘tea and sympathy’ but the reality is that it’s actually pizza, coca cola, and Nyquil. It’s new year’s eve, and instead of going out, or cooking a sumptuous dinner, I’m sittng in bed, pumped full of cold meds, and in a kind of drug-induced Otherspace where everthing seems a bit warped and reality and I aren’t quite connected.
I posted about resolutions last night, so nothing to cover there, and yet, there’s something about this date screams for an overview of the past year, and a plan for the future.
The thing is, I’m just not a goal oriented person. People ask me where I want to be in five years, in ten, and I can come up with socially acceptable answers, but they’re as vague as my resolutions were.
I’m not sure whether this is good or bad.
And just to be clear, it’s not that I’m without ambition, it’s just that naming goals means you have to stick to them, and what I want now might be very different from what I want five years from now, which would mean that I spent five years working towards something useless, or at least unsatisfying.
Anyway, I’m sitting here with a small dog keeping me company (Zorro, because Cleo flees in terror if I sneeze) watching cheesy Disney movies because I don’t have to use my brain to keep up, and trying to come up with something coherent to write about.
Except that I’m not coherent at all.
Cuz I’m in Otherspace.