I don’t do resolutions, especially not at new year’s. What’s the big deal? We have 365 new days, 8760 fresh hours, 525600 free minutes and 3.154e+7 seconds until the celebrations start again and the same old promises are made and broken in a dangerously repetitive cycle. A stupid reason to celebrate, scorns my narrow little mind, yet somewhere within the pessimistic, resentful being they call Claire exists a superstitious bone which insisted I spend the remaining hours of 2016 at a mad Greek (“I’M NOT GREEK, I’M CYPRIOT” – everyone in attendance except me, ‘cos my nationality is convict) fiesta in the city with some friends. I kind-of-sort-of-low-key-moderately got excited at midnight, but it’s okay, it passed soon enough, and I was back to my resting bitch personality (*audience breaths a collective sigh of relief*).
I make changes when they’re necessary, not because it’s a shitty tradition – not that I necessarily stick by them. For example, I began a project known as a bullet journal. The logic behind it is achieving more with less, it’s like a condensed calendar, diary, to do list and journal squished into a cute little notebook. Unlike my current works (which basically resembles an encyclopedia on being a white gurl with no life) it strives for simplicity.
You can understand the appeal, I am sure. When you’re a 20 year old halfway through a university degree in digital media (which will probably never get you a job in the ‘real world’), are trying to pick subjects for next semester that you have a decent chance of passing, spend your days being harassed at the shoe store you work at because “it’s a disgrace” that you have exactly nine pairs of school shoes left on the day before school goes back, will probably not retire until dusk on the day of your funeral, and reluctantly adopted an 8 year old wannabe German schoolgirl on a cruise ship, whose diet consists of rice bubbles, french fries and mashed potatoes, the word ‘simple’ attracts you like Malcolm Turnbull to privatised Medicare.
I began by restricting myself to writing a few lines a day, but I’m a rambler and an over-thinker and I have nothing better to do, so in just 31 days the book I purchased to last me an entire year was three quarters’ full with the mundane, pointless ventures of my January life, the highlights of which were when the
nice lady who serves me at the bank sometimes came into work to buy school shoes for her kid and called me beautiful, and when a guy I’ve never met said I was “as awkward as a middle school boner” on a group chat on Facebook.
How wonderful that I have these precious memories preserved for the remainder of my life :).
I have totally lost the point of this post now. I probably shouldn’t have written that. To summarise, I made a non-resolution commitment to create a bullet journal which has kind of not really worked but that’s okay.
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