Here’s the first prompt from a new site called “A Fancy Name for Simple.” I’ve decided I won’t put the pressure on to respond every day, but I have enjoyed the daily prompts for the Christmas Journal I participated in and thought I would give this a try as well.
January 1, 2007
I wanted a perfect ending. . . Now I’ve learned, the hard way, that some poems don’t rhyme, and some stories don’t have a clear beginning, middle, and end. Life is about not knowing, having to change, taking the moment and making the best of it, without knowing what’s going to happen next. Delicious ambiguity.
-Gilda Radner
Today is filled with “delicious ambiguity” as all of 2007 sits in the future. How do you approach a new year? What are your hopes, dreams, and plans for the year? What do you want to leave behind about last year?
I would love to leave worrying behind. I am a compulsive worry wart—drive everyone in my family crazy with it. I have analyzed it and I understand it, but I haven’t been able to drop it! I worry no matter how well things are going. 2006 was a very good year for our family. Sarah married a great guy, the wedding was beautiful, Matt was incredibly successful in school, and we all had good health, We have jobs we like, though we’d like jobs we could leave at the workplace.
I am a goal setter and a list maker—probably goes with the compulsive worrying. The last couple of years I made little books with my goals for the year. I did pretty well in meeting my goals this year—especially in the area of fitness. I’ve been getting to the gym 4-5 times a week since August and for the first time in my life, I go because it makes me feel better instead of dragging myself there because I “ought to.” I wrote in my journal almost every day until October, but then had a two month spell of no interest. I’m anxious to get back to it this year. There are still areas to work on and I’m trying to decide it I’ll write them in my journal or do another little book. I do like the idea of a fresh start and as a school teacher always feel like I get two of them—one in September and another one on New Year’s.