Posts tagged yearly recap
Posts tagged yearly recap
“And now we welcome the new year, full of things that have never been.”
—Rainer Maria Rilke
I am a big believer in resolutions. We went into last year with simple goals: settling into our new life together, recovering from the chaos that was 2010, and finding the peace and time to be bored. Although the measurable state of our lives remained rather stable in 2011—zero funerals, only one newborn, one puppy, no moving trucks, no wedding planning, no bridesmaiding or groomsmening, and very little home renovating—it was an exhausting year full of personal battles and unspeakable obstacles.
And we have made it to the other side. Not only are we here, but we are better for every scar this year has left in its wake. And we are hopeful.
Some of those aforementioned battles are part of much larger wars. Wars that we will continue to fight together in 2012 and for as many years as is required. But those are things we cannot control.
And this year will not be dictated by the aspects of this life that are not within our jurisdiction. This year we will be active in the quality of our lives. This year will be about conscious decisions and passionate commitments. This year will be about the present and the future. This year will be big. This year will be ours.
If nothing else, I wish you all the optimism to approach 2012 with your very best.
I’ll be back tomorrow with the micromanaged version of my 2012 goals.*
*You (nor I) will never get that kind of detail out of B, so I only speak for in the plural first person in a broad sense.
Yesterday, we had a little bogiversary party over here at BEST. There was
cake, ice cream, party hats, noisemakers, a mound of gifts, me being chatty. But that’s what you’re here for right, my wordy musings? And if we had cake every time one of us wanted cake… well, things could get ugly.
So, if yesterday was (metaphorical) cake day—all about pats on the back and celebrating the year that was—today is reflection day—all about analyzing the journey, measuring and adjusting. And don’t worry, Monday will be resolutions day—a little bit about about guilt and regret, but mainly focused on plans, goals, and the year ahead.
We’re postponing that to Monday for two reasons: partly because I need more time to outline it all, and mainly because I just have to tell you (on Thursday and Friday) about last weekend.
I came to tumblr last year in need of a space to let loose all the chaos that was bouncing around in my brain. As a newlywed, a first time home owner, a momma to
one now two furbabies, and someone who was (and still is) searching for her career path, I was feeling very weighed-down by my crazy life. Writing has always been my means of letting go. If I acknowledge my emotions by putting them on paper (or screen), then I can release the weight of them.
And that is what BEST has let me do. I’ve wrote about things and people I love, what I hate, what I want and need, what I have to let go of. We’ve talked house and home, marriage and friendship, (hypothetical) babies and furbabies, who I am, who I’ve been, and who I want to be.
And as I mentioned yesterday, one the things I am most proud of at BEST is the rate at which I’ve been posting because it translates directly to how much I’m writing. My original goal was two to three posts a week. Now I’m up to Monday through Friday posts and the occasional weekend writing with little to no difficulty. As an aspiring writer, I’ve always been told that nothing is more beneficial than writing something, anything, every single day. Over the years, I’ve made dozens of attempts at daily writing, but this is the first time it has really stuck.
And I am so proud of that. I’m not the girl for whom self-control comes naturally and I’ve always used that as an excuse for my overindulgence and my wavering level of commitment. The catch to those two shortcomings, overindulgence and a pathetic follow through, is that they are usually only harmful to one person: myself.
By nature, I am far better to other people than I have ever been to myself. I don’t take care of myself like I know I should, I am not confident in my abilities, and I am far from being my own biggest fan. And I guess a lot of it goes back to my fear of failure. If you do your best for someone else, and don’t succeed, it’s still the thought that counts. But if I’m trying and working and fighting for self-interest, it has to be a safe bet, because if I fail, there’s nobody but me to say I appreciate the effort.
What I suppose I’m getting at with all of this, is that maybe my one goal for year two of BEST is to use it as a diary of all the personal goals I need to set and actively pursue over the next year. I genuinely believe that if I improve myself, and thus improve my self-image, that the confidence I gain will help lead me to the career path I have been so desperately seeking.
So, check back in on Monday, and hopefully I’ll have some of those personal goals straightened out. Until then, thanks for listening.
Yesterday I told you all about Us v. Miss Nora, round one and the year that was. All in all, I’m feeling a little more zen about things today. Most likely due to the praise and encouragement of some lovely readers who I am fortunate enough to call friends. So today is about the plans, the to-dos, the dreams.
Nora still needs a lot of work, so I’m going to break it down into three categories: functional (structural, necessary, high priority), aesthetic (beautifying, the fun stuff, unfortunately low priority), and power couple (a combination of the two, mid to high priority).
I’m fairly certain that’s the long and short of it.
Who wants to help?
This past weekend was the one year anniversary of the move into our first house. To be honest, I have mixed feelings about the whole thing. First and foremost, I am exceptionally proud of the simple fact that we have survived the past 365 days. Nora has not made it easy on us. (Yes, I’ve named our house. If you can name a car, you can name a house. And yes, she’s named after this bad ass broad.)
We’ve done a lot that I am genuinely pleased with.
But there have been some really rough days; days that left me emotionally exhausted and mentally scarred for life. There was that lovely day in February when we woke at 4 am to fuming furnace and 14 inches of sewer water in our basement.
That fiasco led to a $5,000 insurance claim, new hot water tank, new furnace, new (to us) washer and dryer, five days sleeping on an air mattress in my brother’s living room, two weeks without our puppy, and several other horrible memories I have fully repressed.
We’ve also had several problems with Nora’s plumbing in the main bathroom. Our baseboards had to be ripped out almost completely so that my dad and the husband could replace a line that was causing water stains on the (freshly painted) kitchen ceiling. Before we could manage to get new baseboards up, we found another and much bigger problem. A crack in our tub surround tiles caused a hole to rot in the drain line for the tub. Translation: The tub and surrond must be ripped out so that can be repaired. Then must order a new (custom size) tub and redo all the dry wall and tiling.
So… for the last three months we’ve been showering in the basement. (Yeah, the basement that previously held 14 inches of poop water.) We’re in the process of saving some money and waiting for dear old (always saving my ass) dad to have time off work so we can smurf this shit.* (smurf: verb; to blindly attempt a project, usually of the home improvement nature, with zero professional training or guidance)
Remember when I said mixed feelings? Yeah, I’m talking shaken, stirred, blended, whipped, and beat to hell feelings.
I genuinely love this house. I love that it is ours. I love the memories we have made here and all the things I know are yet to come. I want to make it truly lovely. I want to do justice to her 81 years of beautiful history. But I am terrified to even pick up a paint brush. So many things that began as small and manageable changes have become overwhelming renovations.
In closing, I am a grown woman who is terrified of her own home. And I suppose that means that
round one year one goes to Nora.
The Wilts- 58
Wish us luck for year two; we’re going to need it.
*Note: My dad does have some professional training as a plumber, so we’re not technically smurfing it. But considering the first recorded use of smurf as a verb was my Papa’s doing, it doesn’t actually have a technical definition.
Tomorrow’s post will be all about the big plans that we have for Nora despite everything she has done to break our hearts and crush our dreams.