Reflection and Goals

I’ve never quite understood the mania that some people experience at the end of each year – setting out either a list of the things they achieved over the past twelve months, or stacking up a series of goals they would like to achieve in the next twelve. I’m not questioning them – if they’re happy doing it, they’re not harming anybody. I’m just expressing my bewilderment at it all.

I tend to trudge from each day, week, month, or year to the next, discovering what’s happening as I get there. Invariably I have no grand plan, no secret hopes, and no massive ambitions, beyond keeping a roof over our head, remaining relatively happy, and remaining somewhat healthy.

Of course there are some things I would like to change – both about myself, and my situation, but none of them are earth-shatteringly difficult or important in the grand scheme of things. Would I like to lose some weight? Yes. Is it going to happen? Probably, if I stop eating rubbish and actually get out running again. Would I like to travel a bit less with work? Yes. Is it going to happen? No – if anything, this year will see me travel more than ever before. Would I like to make more friends? Definitely. Is it going to happen? Probably not, unless via the internet – given the lack of time I typically have to spend with anybody.

All of the things mentioned above are to do with me. There’s probably only one thing I would like to change about anybody else. I would like people in general to become a bit more accountable instead of constantly wining about things. I know, I know – we all complain from time to time, but as I’ve said before – I tend to just keep plodding forwards. Some people seem to like standing still – sitting even – and complaining endlessly.


We’ve been invited out for a few drinks tonight. A friend has invited us to their house to welcome the new year together. We’re taking some of our leftover drink, some leftover snacks, and will trudge round to their house in the rain to begin working steadily towards a rather impressive hangover. If I’m still compus mentis when we arrive home in the early hours, I promise to send a few “Happy New Year” messages.

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