Unresolved

Do  you know what? I'm not even going to start with the whole Resolutions thing this year. Just another set of things to fail at. And all my Januaries are all the same - you know the drill. Write a novel. Publish a poetry collection. Fit into size 12 jeans. Learn to play Lullaby of Birdland. Blah blah blah.

This year I'm not going there. I'm just going to take it as it comes, see how it goes. All these plans and goals are just ways to beat myself up - and I clearly don't give a crap about them really, deep down, otherwise I'd have done them all by now. 

I am going to think smaller. Not a poverty of aspiration but more like a miniaturist. Do little things properly. Drink good coffee slowly out of a good cup. Brush my daughter's hair. Look out the window of the train. 

I am going to get stronger. I need to support my daughters, and to do that I need to stand firm myself. That means be healthy, eat right, get fresh air, try to sleep. 

I am going to write. I'm not even going to say what. Anything. Everything. I do know that writing makes me feel better. 

I am going to reconnect with myself. This is homework from my counsellor. Who the heck am I? Actually I think I already know the answer to that. I am my Collected Works. I am here. in these blog posts over the last 5 years. In my poems. In all the words I have churned and cranked out for work.  I am write here.