So New Years is like DefCon5 on my millions of bad habits. (The hubs just informed me that that doesn't make any sense.) But you know what I mean.
I have a love/hate relationship with January 1. At the beginning of the year, I basically forget who I actually am. On paper, I magically transform into this robust "I-can-do-anything-good" kind of woman. And then January 2nd rolls around, and I remember "Ohhhh yeah. There's a reason I haven't been doing any of this." I'm Jena, not Carol Brady on steroids.
Every year I usually make some sort of monstrosity list, but very few of them actually get accomplished. My resolutions are kind of like a to-do list for the first week of January.
I also almost always have resolutions remorse, because everyone else always thinks of something better to improve on than I do. Maybe that should be my numero uno this year: make better resolutions.
Last year I wanted to (among other things) go skydiving, read all the Harry Potter books, start a food journal, run my third marathon, and watch all the Star Wars movies. And I ... read the HP series. That's it. (Ten points for
Run. I'd never call myself a runner, per se. Unless there's only one piece of cheesecake left in the fridge, and I have to beat Grahm to it... Then I'll go all non-aquatic Michael Phelps on your buns. That being said, I have run two marathons. (It's not blogging without a little bragging, ya?) I'm posting pictures just to prove it, cause I know you all are thinking of my
Basically, I've been eating every day like it's Y2K. Let
My life can be summarized by this statement: It's a constant battle between my love of food and not wanting to be fat. Post-wedding, I've done a lot of sitting around, blogging, and crafting. Notice what all these delightful activities have in common? I don't have to MOVE. And good lord, that's starting to take it's toll. I got mistaken for the Pillsbury Doughboy's twin sister yesterday.
Write. I graduated this year with a Professional Writing degree. I'm one of those people who believe great writers are avid readers (cause it's true), so I read way more than I write. This is a problem only because I don't have a life goal of reading all the books in the world (Quantum Physics killed that one for me). I want to write and write well. The real stuff.
I'm talking about really putting my degree to use. Grahm and I are making payments every month for that darn piece of paper, might as well flaunt it, right? It's time to start writing something, besides this
Love. This seems like a stupid one, really, and slightly hippy-esque of me. "I just want more love in the world, man." But seriously. I can be really mean and hurtful with my words, especially to those I love the most. Nothing reveals your true colors like marriage does, and let me tell ya... my "colors" aren't always donut and rainbows.
Whoever coined the phrase "Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me" is a freakin' idiot. Growing up in a sarcastic family, we always say "Just kidding" after we say anything... as if those words can erase whatever hurt we just caused. I'm one of the worst. I justify it, because I assume they get that I'm trying to be funny. But sometimes it's not, sometimes it's just hurtful. I want to start watching what I say. Loving people more in the way I treat them and speak to them.
2011 was the best year of my life, so 2012 you've got big shoes to fill. I hope you're full of miles of running, pages of writing, and lots and lots of lovin' on people.