A New Year’s Resolution and a Mission Statement

13 Jan

So I have my Microsoft Word up and running once again on my laptop, waiting to be filled up with characters especially arranged in such a way to be translated as language, and hopefully within that language, a statement of purpose.

I have opened up Word many times in my life with the intention of creating something on the blank space in front of me, and I’ve failed at the endeavor more times than I have succeeded.  Staring at a blank canvas that waits for invention feels no less daunting than standing at the base of a mountain, peering up towards a peak that has disappeared into the thin air surrounding it.  Yet somehow I have to go up there on my own and find it anyway.  Because it’s there.

(I don’t mean to sound so dramatic, nor do I set out to write so many sentences that start with “I”.)

I’ve written many a blog before.  Some self-indulgent pieces meant to gain attention and praise to help boost up a needy ego.  Behind every posting there is a deep seeded need to be seen and appreciated by at least a few in my life, and even a few not directly in my life at all.  No one creates to then hide their brainchild in some closet or drawer to go unseen.  We all crave some amount of adulation from others as a confirmation that what little gifts we do possess within ourselves are of value to others.  We’re of use in our own particular way.  We each possess a special space in the world that only we can fill, because that tiny space was carved out especially for us.  And we somehow all fit together to make the big machine work.

Whenever the end of yet another year approaches, many small conversations turn to resolutions for the new year about to begin.  I happen to be a fan of the New Year’s resolution, and have seen a few I’ve made come to fruition over the years.  Or course there are many more that fall by the wayside, but the idea of a new beginning, the optimism produced with just the promise of potential gives hope that the upcoming year can be something to eventually look back on with pride.  And deep down, in the darkest, densest portion of my core, I am a secret optimist.

I want to do a number of things, great and small within the next twelve months.  One of these things is to begin writing again, in earnest.  If I wrote one blog piece a week, by the end of the year I would have fifty-two entries, which would be a nice body of work to have accomplished.  It might not all be brilliant or worth remembering, but that isn’t the point of the endeavor.

What I write, I hope, will be more forthcoming about experiences in my life.  I want to allow the other voices in me to have a chance at being heard.  I want to talk openly about the parts of me I have kept shut away from so many people for so many random reasons.  If anyone has ever walked away from an encounter with me believing I am a surly, sardonic and judgmental individual, they are only partially right.  I’m not writing this in the hopes of converting people into believing I’m something else entirely.  Those parts of me are real and form a significant part of my identity that I cannot simply divorce myself from.

I recently came to the conclusion that I shouldn’t fight who I am simply because people think I should change, that I should be more sociable or less “negative”.  I’m the way that I am, for whatever reason, be it by design or by default.  I possess this mess of emotions and voices that I’ve lived with for nearly all my life, letting some out while keeping many locked in.  What I ultimately want is to convert these bits of me into positives.  I want to turn them into qualities that bring good into my life, rather than pain and depression from my shame in possessing them.  Because there is a tiny space carved out for me in this universe, and all of those tiny bits, when finally assembled, fit that space just right.

Lisa at Club 33

Age 10? Dunno. But it was a fancy dinner at Club 33 for me.

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