New Year, new month, new resolutions, new goals, new plans, new plots, new stories to write ... and I am still stuck in the old vacation mode.
There's all the fresh, springy newness around me and I just can't get on board with it. Perhaps because January does not feel like a fresh start. Physically, it's a worsening of winter. The days are colder, grayer, and more prone to snow. And though technically the days are lengthening it does not seem that way because of the abundance of cloud cover blotting out all but the strongest rays of midday sun.
Perhaps this is the reason so many Americans fail at their New Year's resolutions: because the fresh, springy newness is all in our heads.
I am tying up lose ends and making weak attempts at new beginnings. I've started the running around of errands and the beginning of month paying-of-the-bills. I am still cleaning house after putting it off during semester finals and then Christmas/holidays. Then there's the whole putting away of Christmas decorations which is always disheartening because once they're gone it's not winter with sparkles and bobbles it's just plain winter.
I have not yet erected the giant poster board list of goals which is supposed to represent my new mindset even though I've been working on those goals ... slowly. My latest writing projects are not springing to life before my eyes and, though I know this to be the reasonable way of things, I am disappointed.
Though I suppose there is a worse time of year to impose the mental state of newness on people: February, the one long gray blur that causes me to start bidding on full spectrum lamps on eBay.
