For the sake of making resolutions, it’s easier to resolve to do more of this and less of that. It’s, frankly, easier to do the exact opposite, or nothing at all.
II. Prelude: Wine, Dine, and the After (But Not Necessarily In That Order)
My resolution is to do more. I don’t think I am doing enough in general. My cousin, Greg, confronted me about this so-called blog—turns out this is simply a general journal with no exact theme about anything except me—and asked if I still wrote. I told him, no, but I appreciated his inquiry. It gave Greg something to do.
If this gave Greg something to do, maybe people actually read this. With the glorious technology of Macintosh and other phones, granting us—except for my not owning one—internet access we feel the need to browse: waiting in line, sitting at the airport, and even while you’re in the bathroom. I’m giving people the ability to access and read the best bathroom material ever: a series of letter-formed word-formed sentence-formed paragraphs of stream of consciousness nonsense writing.
Just don’t drop your phone.
So, Greg, here you go. Thank you for your interest. I hope your Phish concerts went well.
Sarah and I have decided to more: gym, tea, snowshoe. These three are at the top of many other minor things. In actuality, I can’t think of anything else, but I’m assuring you there will be more to follow. We are going to cut back on glasses and bottles, if you know what I mean. We are great as of now; however, about a year and a half ago, Sarah’s sister, Melissa, confronted us about the display in our recycling bin. We pointed at day number seven after Melissa rhetorically retorted a question about the number of days in a week.
One cannot become sophisticated in the world of wine if the education is simply read.
So, we’re limiting ourselves to enjoying ourselves at special events: hanging out with members of the Malone family, the Patell family, or the Locke family; SU games, soccer games, or any other sports-related event; birthdays; holidays; parades; and the occasional dining out.
However, Sarah and my postponed Christmas present is stewing. Part of an extended weekend will be celebrated at Wine and Chocolate Festival weekend on Seneca Lake. Here’s to us!
Let’s segue into dining. For Christmas, three recipe books were placed into my possession, and I cannot wait to utilize them. When upping the ante with cooking skills, please reference the wine comment from earlier.
Upon receiving a new camera from my parents, a camera I shall not drop in a taxi in New York City, I have been trying to make up for lost time. The camera is near my person the majority of the day, because I don’t want to miss an opportunity to fiddle with it and miss a photo opportunity. Yes, I’m one of those people. Well, I subconsciously want to know where it is at all times.
I want to be sure to tell my life through pictures; although, I do enjoy writing. I am not a huge photography person. I don’t tamper with the picture unless I upload it to the computer to change the picture to black and white. I’ll try different angles and the only lenses I use to mess with the picture include transparent objects and colored glass, like taking a shot through an empty beer bottle. I don’t want to spend hours with a program, chopping the picture in half to make a split screen, sharing the frame with a saying or a quote. The more “old fashioned” a picture looks, the better..
However, if I had to, I would find the interesting friend shots and create thought bubbles. Maybe you’ll see more of those on Facebook, but that will only happen if I’m really bored.
I’m happy to say that I am working on the fiction again, but not necessarily the novels. Yeah, I know. Give me loud Booooooooo! I am my own antagonist. However, I know Zach would be proud. He’s probably one of the only people who has read anything I have (fictionally) wrote. Why? Because a) he has been in numerous Oneonta writing classes, b) he is my best and only constructive critic to date, and c) he is the only one who I have given a chance to read anything. As much as people seem to enjoy the stories, most of them are rubbish.
The Art of Communication is something I have been poorly adhering to. I’ve turned into a horrible friend to many people, and there is no one except myself to blame. Would I have ever imagined myself in this position? Never. I thought I would be keeping in touch with everyone and anyone, but life is getting the best of me and communication turns lackadaisical. The pity I have for myself is not a black cloud hoovering over me, but a hippo on my back; not only are those mammals heavy, but they have a pristine mean streak. A hippo is the perfect metaphor.
I’ve been teasing myself lately. Mr. I-look-into-things-too-deeply-turned-cynic is pulling a 180 again. I look at where my life is, and I tell myself I am content. I have a great job. I have a great family. I have a great girlfriend, who comes from a great family. I do more activities. I’ve been loosening up. Weddings are steady and everyone has seemed to pop out a baby this year. I’ve done more deep breathing and meditating when I can get it in; running into my meditation instructor/mediator/mentor person made me miss those Wednesday sessions. Sarah and I’ve been watching “buddy shows,” finally getting into How I Met Your Mother and accepting Happy Endings for its stupid and lighthearted “familial” comedy. Hanging out with Otis at Tully’s a couple weeks ago was truly fantastic; we reminisced about present and past, culture, and ten years after graduating high school, tying in the then-and-now.
This brings me to the decision to include anecdotal with some of these entries. They definitely won’t be as long as this one, but they’ll be fun. I can promise you that.