Did you know that 45% of Americans make New Year’s resolutions but only 8% achieve them? This tells me that I am correct in not wasting my time making resolutions. Before I always blamed laziness, but now I can blame math. I like blaming math. I wish I could find more things to blame on math.
I got a 2013 Pessimist calendar from Despair.com and am loving it so far.
Today’s calendar entry was the definition of pessimist: One who believes, accurately, that all is for the worst in the worst of all possible worlds; see: “realist” Antonyms: Optimist, Dumbass
I love this calendar.
If I did make a resolution though, it would probably be to take (and blog) a picture a day. I think something like that could be really fun, but then I thought about my typical day and realized that most of the pictures would probably just be of a computer monitor. That hardly seems interesting. And seeing as there is only an 8% chance that I would actually take this picture of my computer monitor each day, I hardly see the point.
In Christmas news, got some nice gifts this year… running shoes, Amazon gift cards (which were promptly spent on books and The Brave Little Toaster movie), a needlepoint Fallout boy ornament with a Santa’s hat on.
I think the best gift was from Mr. W though. TEN of these bad boys:
I used my first coupon last weekend–we saw Les Miserables. It was so-so. He didn’t outright hate it, which was nice.
Not too much else going on. New Year’s eve Mr. W, my brother, and I stayed home and had some Moscato wine at midnight. I counted down the minutes starting at 11:50 which was just as anticlimactic as you would think.
I want to get back into writing. Anytime I have some free time I think, “You know, I should write” but then I end up playing Sims 3. And then watch as my Sim writes. I tell them what genre to write and the title of the book and they start typing away at their computer. They immediately have a publisher that gives them advances every time they turn in a few chapters and then when they are done it gets published and they get royalty payments for a few weeks. If real life were like this I would write more often. Probably.
I annoy myself. I have two romance novels completely outlined, start to finish. I have even written the first third of one of them. And yet, I never work on them. Mr. W says I have a fear of success, and he is probably right because he is usually right whenever his answer annoys me. When this happens, I usually snap back with “You don’t know me”, which actually means “I want to be able to sidetrack you with my bullshit but instead you are calling me out on it, and I find that incredibly aggravating.”