“And I don’t feel any different.” Those words adequately express how I feel about closing out 2014 and opening 2015. Most years I would have said that knowing that I failed to make progress on the things that really mattered. But this year these words take on a different meaning. I have spent my time in ways that I aspired to. Now I approach those words looking forward to more of the same in 2015. Thank you Death Cab for Cutie for your words; words morph in their significance as time passes.
I worked my first two photography gigs this year. I brewed my first two batches of beer. I am on the last twenty books of the BBC’s 100 best books list. I forecasted to achieve that goal by 40; I am tucking this one in early before I turn 39.
And I’ve been writing. I just missed the deadline to join NaNoWriMo (National Novel Writing Month) this year, but I will be ready next year. I can’t explain why I like writing. My experiences aren’t remarkable. And often my perspective isn’t novel. And yet, I like writing. It’s exhilarating when words surge out from the empty space between my ears.
Is this what 40 is about? A clear vision of desires paired with honed execution skills makes a potent cocktail. If this is what my 40’s are ushering in, I will take it.