Year Book
It doesn't take much for me to ease into the new. Five days into the year and here I am, feeling like an old-timer in it, thinking that in 11 months and a few days more, it's going to be Christmas. How is that? Am I restless already?
Like me, there are a lot, who, I'm sure, immediately mark the holidays and personal red-letter ones out, these days that inspire us to wing through the drudgery of the drab and dragging days in between, like bait for one to work on getting closer to.
Hell, no, I'm not in a hurry to get older, I only want to put my brand new organizer to work, get it busy, and written on to remind me to plan, organize and account for each passing day. By keeping one, I make good my intent to take time seriously, as I always have. This time, however, I want to become better at it, to remember each unred-letter day for how I'm able to inch closer to my goals for its passing, and not just a day and a page to be marked-off and looked back on as one of those uneventful, blurry, in-betweens.
Whenever I skim through my black, dog-eared, 2004 notebook which I still keep, I get a sense of accomplisment, seeing there were many in there that had one million 'to-do' that had been done before I called it a day. And then I understand the process by which things ended up the way they do today, because of the combined effort of those days.
And then there were pages in the notebook with nothing but doodles, scribbles, tiny drawings of people, hearts and flowers -- these love notes from my little girl. And then, a smattering of other things -- numbers, words, phrases, sentences, snatches of conversation I probably recorded while on a phone call, these in red, green, purple and blue ink, bits and bits and not enough to recall. All these, the only remembrance I have of certain ordinary, uneventful, in-between days, pretty much like this one. And there will be more like this, I know.
It doesn't take much for me to ease into the new. Five days into the year and here I am, already thinking that in 11 months and a few days more, it's going to be Christmas. That seems a very long time from now. Getting there seems mighty tedious, I don't even know how, but I know I will. And by the time I get there, I sure will have it all written down. And then I'll be able to tell.
Filed Under: Stuff
Like me, there are a lot, who, I'm sure, immediately mark the holidays and personal red-letter ones out, these days that inspire us to wing through the drudgery of the drab and dragging days in between, like bait for one to work on getting closer to.
Hell, no, I'm not in a hurry to get older, I only want to put my brand new organizer to work, get it busy, and written on to remind me to plan, organize and account for each passing day. By keeping one, I make good my intent to take time seriously, as I always have. This time, however, I want to become better at it, to remember each unred-letter day for how I'm able to inch closer to my goals for its passing, and not just a day and a page to be marked-off and looked back on as one of those uneventful, blurry, in-betweens.
Whenever I skim through my black, dog-eared, 2004 notebook which I still keep, I get a sense of accomplisment, seeing there were many in there that had one million 'to-do' that had been done before I called it a day. And then I understand the process by which things ended up the way they do today, because of the combined effort of those days.
And then there were pages in the notebook with nothing but doodles, scribbles, tiny drawings of people, hearts and flowers -- these love notes from my little girl. And then, a smattering of other things -- numbers, words, phrases, sentences, snatches of conversation I probably recorded while on a phone call, these in red, green, purple and blue ink, bits and bits and not enough to recall. All these, the only remembrance I have of certain ordinary, uneventful, in-between days, pretty much like this one. And there will be more like this, I know.
It doesn't take much for me to ease into the new. Five days into the year and here I am, already thinking that in 11 months and a few days more, it's going to be Christmas. That seems a very long time from now. Getting there seems mighty tedious, I don't even know how, but I know I will. And by the time I get there, I sure will have it all written down. And then I'll be able to tell.
Filed Under: Stuff
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