One of my favorite times of the year is when I sit down to come up with my next year’s list of goals. I love this exercise because it allows me to think about what I want to accomplish in the coming year while pushing me to think outside the box and to challenge myself.
I figured the best way to finish out this year of goals would be by sharing a few statistics/reflections on what I’ve written this year.
“Hey, Dan? Calm it with the sports references.” I know, this is my third sports-referenced blog post title in the past few months, so I guess you could say I’m one overtly-masculine grunt away from being a full-blown athlete. But let’s save the conversation about my transition into a sports icon for another day so we can get on to the actual matters at hand.
Early last year I was blindsided by the news that I had not been accepted into the graduate assistantship that would make getting a master’s degree feasible. I was devastated since I had wrapped so many of my plans for the future around the dream that I’d go on to graduate school.
My goal to “join a group” has hung over my head throughout the past year. This is primarily because I would go back and forth on which group to join. I initially considered joining a running club, but I decided against this after straining my knee and observing how unnecessarily energetic those in athletic clubs tend to be. So after the dream of joining a weekly running club ended, I began to set my sights on something much more sedentary. And that was when I decided to join a book club.
“Do Something Crazy”
That phrase has haunted me ever since I set it as a goal I wanted to complete as a 23-year-old. Looking back, I can see that I wanted to do something that would shake me out of my incredibly comfortable zone, but I have spent the months since then struggling to find an activity that would be considered “crazy.” I had almost given up finding something creative when an idea hit me. What if I did a spur of the moment weekend trip to Canada? I thought about it a bit more and was soon raring to begin what I was sure would be an unforgettable weekend.
Of all the goals that I set in October 2017, the one to “Put an end to any grudges” has intimated me the most. This is because I tend to cling to grudges with the vice-like grip of a toddler clutching their favorite toy. Knowing this as I planned the upcoming year’s goals, I decided to attempt to abolish this practice.
Oh, hello there! I didn’t notice you come into my kitchen. But since you’re already here, why don’t you grab a seat and join me while I prepare some delicious food!
That, ladies and gentlemen, is how I imagine I would start my cooking show if the Food Network would ever get around to greenlighting my pilot. And yes, I would feign surprise at my guest’s arrival every single episode. Anyway, on to the matter at hand.
This has been an interesting blog post to write because most people I know can attest to the fact that I have had a checkered past when it comes to my apparel choices. These poor decisions have been evidenced in the past when I described my style as one that makes me look like “an extra in a searing documentary on the mistreatment of Walmart towards its employees” or when I pointed out how much I used to favor “Wrangler jeans, [a] button-down rodeo shirt, and cowboy boots.” If those two quotes don’t make you realize how bad my style has been, you should probably find a personal stylist.
Did my title make you think that I’m back into running long distances? I am most definitely not (thank you, skiing in Washington, for the knee injury). Instead, I am referring to the sprint towards the end of my year of goals.