Finally, after an extensive hiatus, I’ll attend a writers’ critique group in downtown Hot Springs today. I’ll take for review a revised first chapter of a would-be-novel I’ve let languish for several months. Whether I continue will depend on whether I decide the novel has any potential—for being finished and being moderately appealing to the intended reader.
I’m slow to start my assessment of my plans for the year ahead. Here it is, eight days in, and I’ve still given only modest attention to “what do I want this year to hold for me.” It’s odd, I don’t feel a sense of urgency, nor a sense that planning matters much. But I’d rather not be a ship without direction, so I’ve committed to myself to pay attention and make decisions about where I want to go, both figuratively and literally, this year.
My wife and I both know that one thing we want to do is to fit into our clothes better, so we’re adjusting our intake of food and booze (for me), in terms of substance and volume, with the objective of saving money on a new wardrobe and, frankly, feeling better (speaking strictly for myself) than today. I feel stuffed and lethargic, though I can’t quite figure out why. It’s not that I’ve gained THAT much weight, but my body is telling me otherwise. Where’s my energy? I should be out blowing leaves to clear out paths for water to flow around the house, but I’ve not been able to muster the energy and the inclination.
I want to travel, but I don’t know where. I saw a television program about Costa Rica the other day; that holds promise. Or Nova Scotia; I’ve always loved what little I’ve seen of Nova Scotia and I want to go back. I’d like to relearn what little I once knew of welding, and then build on what I learned, but that’s an expensive proposition. The need for money to pursue so many of my interests (or what I think might be my interests) suggests I retired way too early; I would have served myself by chaining myself to the work-world for another four or five years, saving every penny I could in the process. That ship has sailed, though. Nothing can be gained by second-guessing a decision long since made and executed.
This post is the poster-child for my style of blogging; stream-of-consciousness that has no meaning to others and holds questionable meaning to me. I’ll stop now and drink coffee, cup number two.
