So, we’re here. Made it through another 365 days of moments. Some boring, some bonkers, and some fun.
2015 was an interesting one for me. I finished up my first year as a head teacher and started the second one with even more responsibilities than before. I moved all of my stuff out of my childhood bedroom and into the basement, which was far more painful than I ever could have imagined. I got married. I got married! I’m a wife now! How the hell did that even happen? I still can’t believe it.
I thought of chronicling my wedding experience here–the planning, the chaos, the celebrations–but it just never happened. Never seemed like I had the time and then all of a sudden months passed and I wasn’t even sure if it made sense to post anymore.
Looking back on this little space, I think I spent a lot of time thinking that maybe my happy moments weren’t worth posting. I think I let too many outside forces convince me that this wasn’t a safe place for me anymore. And that’s sad. Because it doesn’t matter who reads this blog, it should be a place of joy. It should also be a place to unleash some sadness. Not quite the same as the online journals of old (Livejournal, I miss you every day), but a place of freedom.
I miss typing. I miss connecting with people. I miss the community. I miss making posts about nothing, just because.
When considering goals for 2016, I know some major things I need to focus on:
1. Do what makes me happy.
2. Stop overthinking every goddamn thing.
3. Stop making excuses.
4. Follow the fuck through.
Curse words are necessary because they are emphatically delicious. I want to hold myself accountable for my words, thoughts, and actions. I want to have an idea and see it through. I want to fill notebooks with ramblings, both good and bad. I want to have more moments like this…with my dog curled up at my feet, the smell of a candle burning nearby, and the squeaks of the floorboards above me as my parents mill about the house.
In 2016, I’ll turn 30. Seems like a good time to do what makes me happy. To stop over thinking every goddamn thing. To stop making excuses. And to follow the fuck through, Cristina.
“For last year’s words belong to last year’s language
And next year’s words await another voice.”–T.S. Eliot