It was the best of times, it was the worst of times, it was the age of foolishness, it was the epoch of incredulity, it was the season of Light, it was the season of Darkness, it was the spring of hope, it was the winter of despair.
I’m not saying Charles Dickens was specifically referencing my 2023, but given the nature of this quote, I can’t rule out the possibility that he wasn’t.
I’m generally not one to look back—I much prefer to set my sights on the horizon. My favorite thing to happen, my favorite book to write, my favorite event to occur is always whatever is next. Like a shark, I am perpetually moving forward. (Do sharks perpetually move forward, or is it that they don’t sleep? In my head, this simile works, but possibly not in actuality.)
Regardless, I’m compelled to mention that this was both the best and worst year of my life. As the low points will bum me out to recount and the high points feel braggy, I won’t go into much detail on either. I will say that I am so grateful to Karyn for deciding we should start a Substack and for all of you for joining us here. It’s Always Something definitely goes in the win column… along with Gina’s wedding and this night:
For years I was opposed to making New Year’s resolutions because I always feel like I’m setting myself up to fail. Let’s be honest—if I were capable of becoming a better person with good habits, I’d have done it already. But a few weeks ago, Karyn sent me this for us to discuss here:
I thought giving myself an annual performance review would be a fun twist, but then my holidays went sideways, and I lost my motivation to do anything but eat cheese and drink chardonnay.
Last year, I did come up with a word for the year and I set my intentions around it. I don’t remember what the word was because by January 2, we got hit with a pet emergency surgery and rare cancer diagnosis, so my word for the year effectively became FUCK.
This year, I’m just going to let 2024 begin to unfold before I set any intentions. Maybe I won’t set any at all. Maybe I’ll just treat the new year like it’s any given Monday to temper my expectations. In going through last year’s planner (yes, it’s paper, and yes, I am a dinosaur), I see that I wrote down my goals at the end of last year and I didn’t achieve any of them.
Not one.
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