Pretty sure we can all agree that 2020 has been an absolute shit show for most people. Even other writers, those of us who thrive on social distancing ourselves from anyone and/or everyone, are starting to feel the struggle…which is why I kinda feel bad for this next part.
This past year was amazing for me.
There have been down moments (remote learning is not fun to deal with, and some a$$hat got hold of one of my credit cards), but overall, my life has changed for the better. I’ve got a new job I love (except for the idiots who come in, refusing to wear a mask) and coworkers I enjoy working with. I graduated college, summa cum laude. I self-published my first book. I finally got my teeth taken care of, I’ve started eating a little healthier (I’ve lost 10lbs! *dances*), and I’m taking steps to keep the momentum. I’m about halfway packed for my move next month and have paid off one of my big monthly bills.
I’m trying not to jinx anything, but I can’t help but to be excited for the new year.
We have new leadership (suck it, dumpster fire!), a new vaccine (yes, it was rushed; no, I don’t exactly trust it, either, but it’s better than nothing)…in 39 days, I’ll also have a new address and a new roommate. It’s hard not to feel hopeful.
I am standing by my decision from last year; I’m not going to focus on any new year resolutions. I’m just going to keep on working on where I want to be in 2030. For 2021, that means the Indiana side of Louisville, Kentucky. Between now and the end of January, there’s going to be a LOT going on. If anything good happens, I’ll share it, but what fun stuff can come from packing? And why do I have a sudden sinking feeling that this move is going to be more eventful than anticipated? 😬😬😬