Twenty Seventeen


I’m coming for you 2017. Lol, I kid.

I don’t make New Year’s resolutions anymore. I haven’t for years and I can’t think of one year before that when I actually kept a resolution. But I spend a lot of my time on social media and the internet is currently flooded with these and reflections and inspirational memes. Whether I’m swept away on the wave of determination that always sweeps across New Year’s Day, or whether I am compelled to be like everyone else, I did find myself writing down 2017 goals. Hashtag.

The list is as follows:

Read more,
write more,
take less shit.

I like my goals to be short, simple, and broad. Reading and writing make me happy and they are both equally good for each other. I haven’t done nearly enough of it in the past few years. But I suppose “more” is going to be relative and completely defined by me because of the screaming toddler I birthed. I felt inspired by a community I am a part of to start submitting my short works again to lit mags and contests until I realized that I don’t have anything finished to use. I wanted to participate in their 100 Rejections in a Year challenge, but alas I have set my own challenge to write enough to have enough ready to participate next year. Yes, I said next year. Trying to be realistic about my free time here. Mom Life.

And the “take less shit” thing? That’s self-explanatory right? I’m a pink-haired, tattooed, and highly educated liberal living in a rural town in Oklahoma. I sort of clash with my surroundings. And don’t get me started on being a mom. Joining the mom club comes with its own set of challenges, facing women who know everything and want to tell you what you are doing wrong for instance. Also, Donald Trump is going to be our president. I just can’t with ignorance. I just can’t with hate.

I just can’t with shit that brings me down this year.

Happy New Year, friends.


3 thoughts on “Twenty Seventeen

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