Published: Monday January 5, 2015.
2015 is but a few days old. I have a pile of books to read, work is well underway on a bunch of things I’ve been saving, and I’ve got a 100% streak on my Commit thingydoo for writing
800 500 words each day.
Sound familiar? Yeah. It’s about this time of the year that this sentiment pops up in my writing. Same stuff, different year. There was a guy at the last office job I had that taught me about the same year of experience over and over. A person ages, inevitably, and the months/years roll by without anything new happening. No, thanks.
I’m thinking about where to travel to over next Christmas and New Year, and who I want to go with. I have dots on a mental map covering three continents. I’ve got dates and self-imposed deadlines in the diary. I have two (maybe three) new businesses starting up this year, and despite a heavy-going winter with insufficient exercise I’m in far better shape (physically and mentally) than I was when I moved here a few years ago.
That part’s new. That part’s good, too.
This is the best part about this time of the year. Listening to good music when I’m tucked away in a warm office, topping up my facial screen tan. Thinking, and then doing. Walking the country roads with few cars, virtually no noise and temperatures reminiscent of spring is the definition of an added bonus. I still don’t get down to the beach often enough, but then I suspect most of the people, that live around here say the same thing.
I’m hesitant to go all-out on this 2015 is totally going to be my year horseplay. I’m nowhere near my best, but I don’t realistically expect to be for a while. What took me years to achieve (attain? what’s the right word here? there’s no achievement certificate) in my current state will inevitably take a bunch of time to undo, one stringy thread at a time.
I ordered an alarm clock on Friday night. I have a phone with which I can check my email, use the web, make cringeworthy and awkward social network postings with, the works. When I wake up, it’s because the alarm on my phone wakes me up. I tap it off, and within a few minutes I’m checking my email. My work email. From bed. What? When did this creep up on me and become a normal thing?
I chose my smart phone to be an alarm because the essentialist is me didn’t need an extra alarm. Smart, eh? Save money, save space, clear surface, blah blah. Not for me, it turns out. The drive I had to get out of bed promptly has been diminished because I can do some of things I want to do from bed on a tiny screen. I wouldn’t say I’m lazy, but I’m OK being efficient if it saves me unnecessary work. Like checking email from bed. Even telling you about it makes me roll my eyes and shake my head.
I know there’s an alarm clock arriving next week. I went with Amazon slow delivery, mostly so I get £1 digital credit and can use that to buy a Kindle book I want to read, but also because it gives me a few days to get used to not having my phone by my bed. A book would be far better in that spot, and the first one of 2015 rolled up on Saturday morning.