And I’m staring down a publication schedule – a tentative one, to be sure, and full of aspirational thinking and self-doubt, in roughly equal measure. It’s a tough schedule, barely do-able.
And I cannot wait.
I’ve spent the last several days engaged in a kind of year-end debrief. Thinking about what I did right last year, what I could have done better, what I need to learn. That kind of thing.
And I’ve also been thinking a lot about what I want to happen in the year ahead. My goals, my big plans, my projects – things I want to stop doing, things I want to learn how to do better.
I used to go through this process annually, but in the last five years or so, I stopped. It seemed silly to be thinking such lofty, aspirational thoughts when sheer survival was a seriously open question.
But the past year, things have been – dare I write it? dare I even think it? – looking up. (Eep.)
Aside from a five-hour depressive episode last week, where I was consumed with “what’s the point?” kinds of thoughts, I feel pretty damn good. Pathologically hopeful, even.
So, I’m transferring all these pages of notes and doodles and brainstorming and mindmaps into my 2014 agenda (I use this one from Levenger, which is awesome for so many reasons). And I’m writing in those publication deadlines, too.
Because I am a ghost, driving a meat-covered skeleton made out of stardust, and I have nothing to fear.