The Death of 2017, the Birth of 2018: Let's Get Shit Done

Went to therapy this morning, then took myself out to breakfast to get some writing done while I sip coffee and digest a cinnamon-roll-french-toast pile. Next, I’m going to go to the gym. 2017 isn’t QUITE over yet, but my enthusiasm for progression and getting shit done is getting a two-day head start. 

I’m sort of launching into 2018 with this idea of MAXIMUM PRODUCTIVITY. Not in an unhealthy way, mind you, I still plan to relax and take breaks and sleep and eat and all those very important human things that one must do to survive. 

I just, I feel like so much of 2017 was me recovering from existence ( @evillyte and I were just talking about it last night before I passed out with exhaustion that was furious in nature because it hit me like a freight train). But recovery and survival were the name of the game in 2017. In January I was recovering from the election, in February I was recovering from a concussion, I have no idea what the fuck I was doing in March because of the aforementioned concussion. In April I was recovering from the depression that the concussion gave me. In May I was recovering from lifting gradually heavier things in order to get stronger and physically fight the depression that I got from the concussion. In June I was recovering from the realization that I want more out of life and I’ve been very afraid to chase it. In July I was recovering from my goddamn car exploding (figuratively) two weeks before I went on vacation. In August I was recovering from the goddamn sun poisoning that I got on the vacation because I drove a janky car that replaced my previously janky car and it had no air conditioning and I WENT TO LOS ANGELES IN LATE JULY WITH NO AIR CONDITIONING BECAUSE I MAKE GOOD LIFE CHOICES. 

You can kind of get the point. 2017 was a lot of me finding my footing, trying to figure out not just who I was, but who I wanted to be. For a few years before that, I was just picking up these pieces of myself and looking at them going “oh, did this fall out because of the PTSD? Is this me?” and then filing it away for future examination like some kind of archaeologist of my own damn psyche. This year, I unpacked those pieces and looked at them, and I was able to say “yes, this one is me, let’s shine it up and put it where it belongs” or, for some of them, “this is not me, this is some bullshit a mangy stray dragged in and piled on top of me, and I do not want this” and then I THREW IT INTO THE SEA. 

So, now I have all these polished pieces of myself, and it’s given me a new sense of direction and confidence that I’m not sure I’ve had since I was like, 11 or some shit. That’s 18 years of my life where I was just drifting like a shitty boat, un-moored, collecting garbage along the shore while I tried to figure out what the fuck a boat is supposed to do. But now I know, I have my direction, I have things that I want to accomplish and steps to take that will get me there.

With that in mind, 2018 is the year that I pursue those steps with the kind of grueling determination that Lin-Manuel Miranda would be proud to write a song about (Non-Stop starts aggressively playing in the background here, if you need an auditory cue). I have stories to tell, mountains to climb, and by god I might just have a brand to build. The Zom empire of ridiculous fantasy novels alongside lengthy fanfiction has it’s foundation, and in 2018 I’m going to build on it until I’ve got castles in the sky!

So, if you’re here for that, welcome, and wish me luck. I hope that we can all grow together, and I hope that in 2018 you find pieces of yourself that are shiny and help you chase your own dreams. 

And may we all have a better year than the last.  


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