It’s March 4th (Mona’s birthday!) I’ve just spent twenty minutes writing about my experiences as a substitute so far, and in keeping with my earlier decision, I want to start posting them.

I am a writer and a perfectionist (or maybe those two are synonymous), and it’s hard to share things that are less than “perfect”. But perfect never comes, so I’m trying to force myself to just. write. And I think there’s some good stuff in my random ramblings about my subbing experiences…too much for one post, really. So I think to myself, “I should just start posting them as snippets and at least start the work”. Do not despise these small beginnings, blah blah blah.

But wait. I was going to post my resolutions. That I sketched out the first week of January. And it’s March. Did I mention that it’s March?

So I can’t post the stuff I’ve just written now, because first I have to finish what I started two months ago. Only the best of what I hoped to write is no doubt lost by now…but then I remember. Just. write.

So here, as I start to feel sleep wanting to overtake me, are the resolutions I identified back then.

1) Send out Christmas cards (right. this one is a joke. But maybe next year?!)

2) Eat more slowly. This is a resolution that is entirely independent of any other attempts at making better food choices, and it’s fantastically difficult to achieve. Eating is most often an afterthought, something that gets in the way of everything I have to do. It is an inconvenience and feels like too much work. I ate yesterday…and now I have to think about what I’ll eat today?

Too many days, I wake up for my 6pm shift at 4 or 4:30. It’s never enough time to plan out what I will bring to work for lunch. I’m never quite hungry enough (or together enough) to get something to eat before I go to work. And eating in the car, or at my desk, between phone calls, is not conducive to eating more slowly.

I have been failing miserably at this one. But I’m not giving up.

3) Purge (more) clutter

If things progress as they have been, I may be starting an online degree program fairly soon. This has me itching for a fresh start…not just with external clutter, but with the life-crushing and meaningless stuff that is neatly packed away in boxes, or with the utterly redundant closet that sorely needs an overhaul.

Fresh starts make me happy…if only I wasn’t so bad at starting.

4) Write more – that goes without saying. “Write more” is a resolution for my entire life, not just for a given year. I’ve not been moving towards that goal, but I am always “blogging on the inside”. The words are there…why do I not spend time doing something that I claim to value so much?

5) In the minor leagues, but worth mentioning…stop re-posting stuff on Facebook without vetting it first. It’s far too embarrassing – me, who has made it a life goal to debunk urban legends, and yet I’ve gotten caught up in far too many in the past few months.

So I guess I want to blog without thinking too much and at the same time stop retelling stories UNLESS I’m thinking a little too much about them.

Sounds like me…all of it. So here we go…

first coming

He did not wait till the world was ready,
till men and nations were at peace.
He came when the Heavens were unsteady,
and prisoners cried out for release.

He did not wait for the perfect time.
He came when the need was deep and great.
He dined with sinners in all their grime,
turned water into wine. He did not wait

till hearts were pure. In joy he came
to a tarnished world of sin and doubt.
To a world like ours, of anguished shame
he came, and his Light would not go out.

He came to a world which did not mesh,
to heal its tangles, shield its scorn.
In the mystery of the Word made Flesh
the Maker of the stars was born.

We cannot wait till the world is sane
to raise our songs with joyful voice,
for to share our grief, to touch our pain,
He came with Love: Rejoice! Rejoice!

–Madeleine L’Engle

’tis the @$#$% season

now THERE’s a Christ-like sentiment if there ever was one . . .

exhausted . . . knowing that I will have to try to get 45 Christmas cards written and mailed on the 22nd . . . too much sleep . . . not enough sleep . . . a pukey virus one day before the free prime rib Christmas luncheon at work (therefore limited enjoyment of said prime rib) . . . having it really hit me that the beckster is gone . . . post-anesthesia exacerbation of depression and the fear that instills in me . . . my therapist picking the wrong time to pull her “tough-love” cognitive bullshit on me . . . wanting to hide until it’s all over . . .

but a few more days, and it really will be all over. at least, the false cheerfulness, the pop-up ads and e-mails in my inbox reminding me, “THERE’S STILL TIME” (to buy the gifts I wasn’t going to buy anyway), the “hail-fellow-well-met” joviality [I was struck by what I felt was an absolutely incongruous level of light-heartedness at my pdoc’s office the other day–it was what could only be referred to as . . . festive. I wanted to scream, “YOU ARE HERE TO TREAT PEOPLE WHO ARE DEALING WITH MOOD DISORDERS! STOP BEING HAPPY, DAMN IT!” (insert politically incorrect comment about the staff dipping into the anti-depressant samples here.)], my personal phobia of having to wish co-workers and others a “Merry Christmas” . . . a few more days, and I will be able to put it all behind me for another year.

happy birthday, Jesus . . . I’m sorry about the mess we’ve made of this day that should’ve belonged to You . . .