It's 11:54. I'm sitting at an outdated computer, pondering life and love and blogs and kittens. Also cupcakes. Because I love a good cupcake.
In an hour, I know I'm going to lay down and not sleep. I'll stare at the wave-like lines on the ceiling, play with my new camera a little bit, and think about objectivism. There must be a connection between my eyes being heavy and my heart being unsettled, because I know I won't be dreaming for a while.
Somebody, tell me I'm good. Tell me I'm making the right choices. Tell me I'll succeed in life. Tell me that all of the tiny worries in my heart that have mushed into a giant glob will not come up my throat into my brain. Tell me I'm rational.
When I was seven years old, I checked out a book from the library on origami. Many hours and a ream of paper went into that book, but I was simply too clumsy to make the intricate folds. When hands couldn't grasp tiny corners and fold them into other tiny corners. I cried to my parents that day. I told them that I was stupid and that nobody in my class would like me if I couldn't fold a water bomb. They patted me on the back, no more, no less, and told me I could keep trying or I could give up.
Eventually, I made many a water bomb.
Sometimes, I feel seven years old again. I can't make the corners of my life fold into a perfect shape. It frustrates me. I see the other kids doing it. Heck, they've moved onto cranes now.
I'm not going to create a huge list of resolutions I can't meet. Instead, I want to do ten things this year that will smooth the creases of my life, eventually making something beautiful.
10. Create a book list and finish it by the end of the year
9. Sleep regularly
8. Follow a budget
7. Find balance
6. Eat green things
5. Compliment myself
4. Ask more questions
3. Speak up
2. Go through the temple
1. Prepared to be sealed for time and all eternity
Yes, that right there is the key to happiness.
Oh yes. If I had a #11, it would be to make more lists.