And so the momentum project finally comes to a close. It was a year ago I figured taking on a New Year's resolution was too ambitious and too long-term of a project to sustain, so instead I'd try a different "project" each month. To review:
JANUARY: Finish the 2012 NaNoWriMo manuscript. FAIL. Even though I was over 60,000 words by the end of November, I didn't push through to the end of what was a particularly ambitious story. At least not yet. I still mean to finish it someday.
FEBRUARY: Make healthy choices whenever the opportunities presented themselves. SUCCESS. I wasn't perfect, but I held to the idea pretty well. Unfortunately it takes more than 28 days to establish a long-term habit, so that idea faded off once the accountability was gone.
MARCH: Organize all of my digital files. FAIL. Turns out I have a lot of them, and I care far less about how organized they are than I thought I did.
APRIL: Really clean the house. SUCCESS. But I had the pressure of Taco Party #1 to motivate me.
MAY: Write a blog post every day for a month. SUCCESS, in the sense that I actually did it. But the result made me reconsider my reasons for bothering to continue the blog at all -- something I've been thinking about ever since then, and even more in the past few days with a new year right around the corner.
JUNE: Fall off the face of the earth. SUCCESS. After the way the school year ended, I needed time to just let life drift along. June took care of that nicely.
JULY: Finish my "Following Infinity" rewrite. SUCCESS. Now its just waiting for the world to discover it, even if that means one person at a time for the present.
AUGUST: Get myself mentally ready for the school year. Qualified SUCCESS, because I wasn't as ready to dive back in as I wanted to be. But a well-timed vacation and a few other moments gave me some valuable perspective.
SEPTEMBER: Stay on top of life. SUCCESS. Normally by the time the school year is a few weeks old, I've become swamped with the things I need to do between my teaching and my civilian life. Some proactive thinking helped a lot. Happily I've done fairly well at maintaining this.
OCTOBER: Prepare for NaNoWriMo 2013. SUCCESS. By the time I reached the end of the month, I was ready to tear into the new manuscript with a pile of ideas and plot devices and a busload of fairly developed characters just waiting for more definition.
NOVEMBER: Reach the NaNoWriMo goal of writing 50,000 words in a month. Which I did, but once again, even if I wound up with a word count that topped 70,000 by the time the month ended I still haven't finish the story. Yet.
Which brings us to DECEMBER, in which I set the goal of having a happy month. With only a couple days left I think I can call this one a success. Not only did I manage to avoid the unpleasant moments that made the previous December so difficult, but I had some happier ones take their place. And this whole late December/all of January time of the year is not my favorite, so to feel like the month went well is a pretty big thing.
Where does this leave me at the end of 2013? It's nice knowing I stuck to the project for the whole year, but few of the things I tried to do made any difference in the end, so the point could be argued that the endeavor was a waste of time... at least outside of the goals related to writing, which are probably things I would have done anyway and just used as placeholders to avoid taking on goals that would have been more challenging or significant.
So I don't think I'll be continuing any of this project-of-the-month business anymore. And I don't see any resolutions being made for 2014. There are still things about life I would like to learn or experience or change or improve, but to make any of those stated goals with deadlines would only add pressure that wouldn't help get them done. Maybe 2014 won't be a year for a resolution, but instead just a year that I decide to give some new things a try.
But regardless of how the project turned out, I think it's fair to say that in 2013 I at least made it down the hill when it came to writing. As for what comes next? This year's experience of taking a four-year-old manuscript out of the archive and seeing it come back to life in exciting ways is proof there's really no way to tell what the future holds -- an idea that both excites and intimidates me. Someone told me not long ago they were confident I had a big year ahead of me. Maybe. Maybe not. There's no way to see it coming until it happens. All anyone can ever do is put themselves in the best positions possible for when the right opportunities come along. For all I know the next few weeks could bring on some big changes, or the whole year could just quietly pass by.
Now it's just a matter of being ready to live with whatever comes along.
Sunday, December 29, 2013
Saturday, December 14, 2013
Christmas Traditions: Then and Now
A few years ago my parents downsized from their house overlooking the lake to a smaller but comfortable town home. A lot of their stuff wound up getting thrown out or given away or donated as they prepared for moving day. One afternoon I was looking through a pile in their garage that had been earmarked for downsizing, and found two boxes of glass Christmas tree bulbs that I immediately recognized. They were each designed in solid metallic colors with a variety of Christmas-themed landscapes intricately painted on the sides. Those bulbs were as much of Christmas for me as the blocky Styrofoam chimney my sisters and I had hung our stockings on each year, or the ugly string of yellow plastic bells that probably looked thirty years old the day they were bought, or the figures in the Nativity scene that at least one of my sisters and I treated like action figures more than we likely should have.
I was shocked to see those bulbs on the discard pile, even if they hadn’t been brought out and put on any Christmas tree for close to twenty years. I picked them up, carefully set them in my car and brought them home, thinking they were too precious to be done away with. The old bulbs added some holiday nostalgia to my own collection of ornaments, most of which are gifts from students. I used to keep student ornaments on a small four-foot tree in my classroom, but times have changed enough during my career that it made more sense to just bring them all home. I can’t say I’ve kept all of the ornaments, or mugs, or candles, or decorations, or food, or cards I’ve received from students over the years, but I’ve hung onto the items that were important to me. In fact most of my Christmas decorations have some meaning attached to them, and every year when I get them back out I wind up revisiting whatever memories they inspire.
My family always had a general routine around Christmas when I was young. It varied a little year to year, but it usually involved someone singing in a choir on Christmas Eve and all of us driving up to my grandmother’s in Superior either later that night or early on Christmas morning. I always enjoyed making the trip on Christmas Eve. I have distinct memories of sitting in the back seat of the car and watching the darkness outside pass by, only interrupted by the starlight above and occasional bursts of color from displays of holiday lights close enough to the highway for us to see. We’d listen to WCCO on a lot of those drives since the car radio could hold the AM signal longer. Any other time of year this would bore my childhood self into numbness, but on Christmas Eve it filled our car with songs and stories that made everything about the holiday somehow seem bigger and broader. And spending Christmas at my grandmother's house was unparalleled. Taking the time to describe every memory about it that made it special would only double the length of a post that's going to end up too long as it is.
As we got older, the routine became a visit to my cousin’s house for dinner and watching her young sons excitedly tear open a few early presents on Christmas Eve, followed by time with our own family on Christmas Day. Now those same two sons of hers are adults and have sons of their own. We still get together on Christmas Eve, but these days we’ll go out to dinner instead.
When I’m home during the Christmas season, I’ll almost always have holiday music playing in the background. I have enough of it in my music library so I don’t wind up hearing the same twelve tired songs over and over, and many of the songs have personal history and attachment for me. Some, in fact, go as far back as childhood, songs or albums that I added to my own library because the connections to my past were too strong to put aside. I can play the holiday music on shuffle and hear a good number of more contemporary songs in the mix, but when one of those older songs come up, something from my parents’ record collection that we only dug out for a few weeks every year, the house will just feel a little warmer for a few minutes.
The same could be said for holiday specials on TV as well. Back in the pre-VCR days of five channels to pick from, it was an absolute treat when any of the Christmas specials came on. My sisters and I would run around the house burning off our excitement in the minutes before they started, then sat unmoving on our enormous yellow couch until the closing credits rolled by. These days it’s more likely I’ll look for a favorite Christmas movie to watch if I’m in the mood, sometimes even bringing something up from On Demand. But I’ll admit to still making “A Charlie Brown Christmas” into appointment television every year. And it’s still too painful to sit through “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” knowing how much Erin loved it. I don’t imagine that will ever change.
I can remember seeing Christmas cards show up in the mail back in childhood, and feeling disappointed when they came from people I didn’t know. I’d wonder, who are these people I’ve never seen before? A part of me would hope they wouldn’t come over to catch up with our family, because that usually meant they would bring kids we didn’t know, and we’d be forced into the basement to play with these weird strangers for a few eternal hours while the adults visited. When I was old enough to start sending out my own Christmas cards, I did at first with almost a sense of obligation, thinking this was the kind of thing that adults were supposed to do. I went through the motions of it all, even making a couple of photo cards along the way, but my heart was rarely in it. I always enjoyed (and still do!) receiving cards much more than sending them.
Now I’ve pretty much given up on Christmas cards. I figure that anyone who knows me well enough to make it onto a potential card list is already familiar with my Groundhog Day of a life, and it’s not really worth the effort of sending out minor updates to people who are only a degree or two from my daily life or my social network. Maybe someday a year will arrive worth reporting the details and I’ll be inspired to start up with cards again, but for now here are the messages I would’ve shared with those important to me this year. I know many of the people I’d write to likely won’t see this -- or can’t, in some cases -- but here’s at least what I’d say, just in case they do. To save anyone (including myself) potential embarrassment, I’ll leave the list anonymous. I’d like to think the people who’d receive these messages would recognize which are directed toward them.
*You’ve had some ups and downs this year, but I’m happy things are ending with ups.
*Though it feels like I’ve had several older brothers my whole life, you were probably the closest to ever taking on that role for real. It was good having you around.
*I get why you worry, but you really don’t need to.
*It makes me feel good seeing the person and father you are.
*I’m glad you’re still around.
*I’m very happy about the life you get to have.
*You’ve been one of my closest friends for the better part of my life.
*Congratulations, good sir. You and yours have had quite the year.
*Even if I should know better, I trust you almost more than anyone else.
*As much stress as your life can bring, I like knowing you’re happier.
*I’m glad things are turning around for you. It’s well-deserved.
*Try not to break anything.
*You are becoming way more interesting than I ever would have predicted.
*Few people, if any, can make me laugh like you can. There are a lot of reasons why people enjoy being with you.
*You are, with good reason, probably the most universally loved person I know.
*It means the world to me knowing I’ve always been able to rely on you.
*I still don’t know why you worked so hard at steamrolling your way into my inner circle, but I’m glad you did.
*I feel as much at home with the two of you as I do anywhere else.
*I miss you.
*It sneaks up on me sometimes to realize how much history we have, but I’m glad it’s there. I’m amazed by who you’ve become.
*It’s been good seeing you pop your head up more this year.
*The times you included me when you didn’t have to made a huge difference.
*I’m thinking of you every day. I hope things are going in the right direction.
*Self-discovery isn’t always an easy path, but it’s important. Just make sure you don’t get stuck. Happiness is a goal worth chasing.
*You’re an incredible person, even if it doesn’t always feel like others appreciate that.
*I haven’t completely figured you out yet, but I’m glad I still get occasional chances to try.
Traditions don’t really fade away or disappear. They just evolve along with us, and become whatever we need them to be. Here’s hoping whatever traditions you and yours are either continuing this year or are just beginning will bring peace and happiness to your lives.
I was shocked to see those bulbs on the discard pile, even if they hadn’t been brought out and put on any Christmas tree for close to twenty years. I picked them up, carefully set them in my car and brought them home, thinking they were too precious to be done away with. The old bulbs added some holiday nostalgia to my own collection of ornaments, most of which are gifts from students. I used to keep student ornaments on a small four-foot tree in my classroom, but times have changed enough during my career that it made more sense to just bring them all home. I can’t say I’ve kept all of the ornaments, or mugs, or candles, or decorations, or food, or cards I’ve received from students over the years, but I’ve hung onto the items that were important to me. In fact most of my Christmas decorations have some meaning attached to them, and every year when I get them back out I wind up revisiting whatever memories they inspire.
My family always had a general routine around Christmas when I was young. It varied a little year to year, but it usually involved someone singing in a choir on Christmas Eve and all of us driving up to my grandmother’s in Superior either later that night or early on Christmas morning. I always enjoyed making the trip on Christmas Eve. I have distinct memories of sitting in the back seat of the car and watching the darkness outside pass by, only interrupted by the starlight above and occasional bursts of color from displays of holiday lights close enough to the highway for us to see. We’d listen to WCCO on a lot of those drives since the car radio could hold the AM signal longer. Any other time of year this would bore my childhood self into numbness, but on Christmas Eve it filled our car with songs and stories that made everything about the holiday somehow seem bigger and broader. And spending Christmas at my grandmother's house was unparalleled. Taking the time to describe every memory about it that made it special would only double the length of a post that's going to end up too long as it is.
As we got older, the routine became a visit to my cousin’s house for dinner and watching her young sons excitedly tear open a few early presents on Christmas Eve, followed by time with our own family on Christmas Day. Now those same two sons of hers are adults and have sons of their own. We still get together on Christmas Eve, but these days we’ll go out to dinner instead.
When I’m home during the Christmas season, I’ll almost always have holiday music playing in the background. I have enough of it in my music library so I don’t wind up hearing the same twelve tired songs over and over, and many of the songs have personal history and attachment for me. Some, in fact, go as far back as childhood, songs or albums that I added to my own library because the connections to my past were too strong to put aside. I can play the holiday music on shuffle and hear a good number of more contemporary songs in the mix, but when one of those older songs come up, something from my parents’ record collection that we only dug out for a few weeks every year, the house will just feel a little warmer for a few minutes.
The same could be said for holiday specials on TV as well. Back in the pre-VCR days of five channels to pick from, it was an absolute treat when any of the Christmas specials came on. My sisters and I would run around the house burning off our excitement in the minutes before they started, then sat unmoving on our enormous yellow couch until the closing credits rolled by. These days it’s more likely I’ll look for a favorite Christmas movie to watch if I’m in the mood, sometimes even bringing something up from On Demand. But I’ll admit to still making “A Charlie Brown Christmas” into appointment television every year. And it’s still too painful to sit through “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer” knowing how much Erin loved it. I don’t imagine that will ever change.
I can remember seeing Christmas cards show up in the mail back in childhood, and feeling disappointed when they came from people I didn’t know. I’d wonder, who are these people I’ve never seen before? A part of me would hope they wouldn’t come over to catch up with our family, because that usually meant they would bring kids we didn’t know, and we’d be forced into the basement to play with these weird strangers for a few eternal hours while the adults visited. When I was old enough to start sending out my own Christmas cards, I did at first with almost a sense of obligation, thinking this was the kind of thing that adults were supposed to do. I went through the motions of it all, even making a couple of photo cards along the way, but my heart was rarely in it. I always enjoyed (and still do!) receiving cards much more than sending them.
Now I’ve pretty much given up on Christmas cards. I figure that anyone who knows me well enough to make it onto a potential card list is already familiar with my Groundhog Day of a life, and it’s not really worth the effort of sending out minor updates to people who are only a degree or two from my daily life or my social network. Maybe someday a year will arrive worth reporting the details and I’ll be inspired to start up with cards again, but for now here are the messages I would’ve shared with those important to me this year. I know many of the people I’d write to likely won’t see this -- or can’t, in some cases -- but here’s at least what I’d say, just in case they do. To save anyone (including myself) potential embarrassment, I’ll leave the list anonymous. I’d like to think the people who’d receive these messages would recognize which are directed toward them.
*You’ve had some ups and downs this year, but I’m happy things are ending with ups.
*Though it feels like I’ve had several older brothers my whole life, you were probably the closest to ever taking on that role for real. It was good having you around.
*I get why you worry, but you really don’t need to.
*It makes me feel good seeing the person and father you are.
*I’m glad you’re still around.
*I’m very happy about the life you get to have.
*You’ve been one of my closest friends for the better part of my life.
*Congratulations, good sir. You and yours have had quite the year.
*Even if I should know better, I trust you almost more than anyone else.
*As much stress as your life can bring, I like knowing you’re happier.
*I’m glad things are turning around for you. It’s well-deserved.
*Try not to break anything.
*You are becoming way more interesting than I ever would have predicted.
*Few people, if any, can make me laugh like you can. There are a lot of reasons why people enjoy being with you.
*You are, with good reason, probably the most universally loved person I know.
*It means the world to me knowing I’ve always been able to rely on you.
*I still don’t know why you worked so hard at steamrolling your way into my inner circle, but I’m glad you did.
*I feel as much at home with the two of you as I do anywhere else.
*I miss you.
*It sneaks up on me sometimes to realize how much history we have, but I’m glad it’s there. I’m amazed by who you’ve become.
*It’s been good seeing you pop your head up more this year.
*The times you included me when you didn’t have to made a huge difference.
*I’m thinking of you every day. I hope things are going in the right direction.
*Self-discovery isn’t always an easy path, but it’s important. Just make sure you don’t get stuck. Happiness is a goal worth chasing.
*You’re an incredible person, even if it doesn’t always feel like others appreciate that.
*I haven’t completely figured you out yet, but I’m glad I still get occasional chances to try.
Traditions don’t really fade away or disappear. They just evolve along with us, and become whatever we need them to be. Here’s hoping whatever traditions you and yours are either continuing this year or are just beginning will bring peace and happiness to your lives.
Sunday, December 1, 2013
Eleven Down
November is over, and my goal for the month was a... qualified success. The success part comes into this because I did actually reach the 50,000-word NaNoWriMo "win" benchmark. But let's face it; after five previous years with winning marks it wasn't really a question of if I would win but what the final word count would be. And I say qualified because I didn't reach my secondary goal of finishing the manuscript. Granted, this one did balloon into something larger than I expected. But I tend to see the goals I set for myself in some pretty harshly defined either/or terms. Setting a goal to write 50,000 words in November for me would like saying "My goal is to get out of bed eventually and eat something every day." So saying November was a success feels a bit like a cheat -- even at 68,000 words. I still didn't finish yet. And I should probably give up on trying to explain why I see that as a failure before even more people begin to think I'm crazy. (But it is though. Even if just temporarily. I am going to finish this one, and sooner rather than later. Then I'll be able to let it go.)
So now I'm at my final month-long goal for 2013. This one will seem fairly simple: My goal for December is to have a happy month. Last year December wound up being something of a darkish time for me, and it came on in a very sudden way: All it took was one person saying one thing. I'm sure she didn't intend her comment to be as damaging as it was, but the damage was done all the same and things just went downhill from there. I would really rather not go through that experience again, so I'm going to make a serious effort to steer around a rerun of December 2012.
The best chance I can see at having a happy month will be to stay aware of the goal each day, then remind myself what I'm trying to do and why I'm doing it. December can be an overwhelming time all on its own with so many demands on our time and attention, but there are a lot of good things about it as well. With all of those positives, there should be plenty of chances for me to actively shove the pendulum in the other direction. I'm going to try to be more aware of the good moments when I find myself inside of them, and cross my fingers that from time to time things will just wind up going my way.
I'm not really happy about posting all of this (and anyone who knows how guarded I am won't be surprised by that), but I told myself in the beginning of the year that whatever goals I went after would be things I'd discuss openly here to hold myself accountable. And this is it -- the last goal of the 2013 Momentum project, and tonight it feels like one of the more important ones. Here's hoping the year goes out on a high note....
So now I'm at my final month-long goal for 2013. This one will seem fairly simple: My goal for December is to have a happy month. Last year December wound up being something of a darkish time for me, and it came on in a very sudden way: All it took was one person saying one thing. I'm sure she didn't intend her comment to be as damaging as it was, but the damage was done all the same and things just went downhill from there. I would really rather not go through that experience again, so I'm going to make a serious effort to steer around a rerun of December 2012.
The best chance I can see at having a happy month will be to stay aware of the goal each day, then remind myself what I'm trying to do and why I'm doing it. December can be an overwhelming time all on its own with so many demands on our time and attention, but there are a lot of good things about it as well. With all of those positives, there should be plenty of chances for me to actively shove the pendulum in the other direction. I'm going to try to be more aware of the good moments when I find myself inside of them, and cross my fingers that from time to time things will just wind up going my way.
I'm not really happy about posting all of this (and anyone who knows how guarded I am won't be surprised by that), but I told myself in the beginning of the year that whatever goals I went after would be things I'd discuss openly here to hold myself accountable. And this is it -- the last goal of the 2013 Momentum project, and tonight it feels like one of the more important ones. Here's hoping the year goes out on a high note....
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