In the new year, and number 30

Having a list of 31 things to do in the next 11 months, I realized that I'd better get started. After all, I have to cross off almost three items a month in order to make it!

Tomorrow should take care of #5-- I bought the lift tickets today and Erik has agreed to hang out on the beginner slopes with me.

Another one I thought would be easy(ish) to get started on is number 30. Really, it has me the most worried. Sure, it's easy to start, but it's something I've attempted before and never achieved. It's a very long term goal, too, with a tiny bit of work every day. I'm in great shape right now: running, lifting weights, practicing yoga regularly (although only once a week), so this particular feat of agility should be within my grasp. And it does take more than flexibility. Your arms have to be strong enough to hold your body in an uncomfortable position without letting the leg muscles tense up, and you have to be able to breeeeathe through the pain (always good practice).

I've also been doing particularly well with daily goals. This week, since I've been working from home, I've been able to read (and recycle) one magazine a day (I have a huge backlog since we get so many as gifts and for free) and get rid of one item a day. The latter was proposed to me by a friend who pared down his belongings to an extent that worried his family. Being a pack rat, I'm sure I won't go that far, but I really admire his spartan aesthetic and the ability to be able to travel lightly. The discarded item can be big or small-- it's just the idea of slowly and steadily working on large projects and big issues that really appeals to me.

That said, I've had a lot of success with my before-bed ritual. I know this is boring, but since I've had to wear a night guard to minimize grinding damage to my teeth, I've stuck with flossing, brushing, taking an iron supplement, washing my face and putting moisturizer on (eyes, face, lips and hands!) every single night. All of those things we're supposed to do that are so annoying and are quickly derailed by just skipping it "this one time." Things that really make a difference over time and will allow me to enjoy better health, longer. I am now officially no longer a spring chicken.

So I guess that's my mantra for the new year: slow and steady, every day. Hopefully I will find ways to apply that to my newly manifested dream of becoming a travel writer and photographer.

Wanderlust

I am sick of seeing beauty, of being inspired by shapes in a way I can't verbalize, of catching my breath in the birth of an idea, and not doing anything. I feel impotent. I am fascinated by everything. I want to do everything. But I never get anything done in the hot mess of my mind because I cannot gain purchase to push off from.

I finally know what I want. I want to be a travel writer and photographer. My god, I'm 31: how did it take me this long to realize what I want to do with my life? I've just spent the last 10 years as a web developer, working mostly on internal projects. Always behind the scenes, working on the projects that aren't big, shiny or impactful, never getting credit. I'm earning the same salary as when I started, and I still get treated as a junior.

Well why wouldn't I? I have no passion for any of this-- nothing pushing me to excel, try new things, or learn when it's not expressly convenient. I am not a web developer at heart.

I'm a traveler, a wanderer, someone with acute observation skills and adequate writing abilities and decent photography knowledge. The way I've always lived my life (by necessity) has become more popular in recent years, so my niche has come to me. The seed has been planted, roots dug in, and now I just have to figure out how the hell to start.

To list, perchance to learn

I had no idea that making a list of 31 things to do over the next... now 11 months... would be so difficult. It almost reads as a craft to-do list, although that was far from my original intention.

The thing is, I'm good at seeking out new experiences. I am not good at finishing. Finishing anything. Following instructions, recipes, steps. That's something I want to work on, to learn. Maybe that's really what my 31st year will be about.

But there are so many things I want to do, to make. For starters: everything. I have a vast fabric collection, dreaming in my sewing-room closet of what each yard showed me it wanted to be. I have a collection of links to coveted jewelry that I'd like to try my hand at recreating or at least taking the inspiration and seeing where it leads. Visiting a new country each year. Running a marathon once a year. Trails, coastline, mushrooms, trees, birds. The road untraveled: I want to travel it.

List for 31

I love lists. I love Hula Seventy's lists of "x Things To Do Before I turn x+1." So here's my version:

1. finish a sewing project
2. knit a pair of gloves
3. complete a photo project
4. make donuts July 25
5. go snowboarding January 31
6. run a half marathon in under 2 hours
7. make a painting
8. create a signature granola recipe
9. learn the trail names of Tualatin Hills Nature Park
10. run all of Wildwood Trail
11. build a patio in the backyard
12. create art for my garden
13. run a marathon May 2
14. repaint my sewing room
15. write a work (novel? graphic novel? short story?) based on a music album
16. enter a photo contest June 7
17. try playing the cello
18. learn how to apply eyeshadow
19. try new hairstyles
20. make (& wear) spats
21. hike in the desert January 16
22. go out dancing June 11
23. watch FLCL
24. clean out my car
25. sew with LEDs (wearable circuit)
26. keep up with my book blog
27. write more often (frequency)
28. take a photography class July 25
29. improve my reading speed
30. do the splits
31. complete an olympic distance triathlon August 22

The persons of people

I've never been good with people. One-on-one, I can get along with just about anyone, make them laugh, pull a good story out of them, even enjoy myself. But add another person, and my balance shakes. The more bodies, the worse I am able to divide my attention. I try to avoid large group situations, I hide, or I stick with one person in the crowd.

At work, though, almost everyone is smart, interesting, and genuinely friendly. It's fantastic, but most of them are also very social and interested in networking, so I often avoid the myriad impromptu and plannef gatherings, which means that my introversion is exposed and I don't spend much time even the people I really like. I care. I would get to know them better. I just can't focus when so many others dilute my small slice of charm.

Now it's too late in so many cases. I just want to send out the sentiment, the knowledge that I care.

The air is thinner at the coast, as I imagine it to be at the top of Mt Everest. Perhaps it's not the altitude but proximity to heaven or the alternate. Earthly vales are stretched. Perhaps it's the beauty, casting fiction over the rest of the senses with its staggering bulk.

I watched the moon rise quickly over the coast range, full and miraculous. A sunrise I can appreciate.

Lately I overhear whispers from the other side, snippets of the goings-on. The streets are wet with rain there, as here. People rush by. Here I sit at my desk for hours, bruised by fluorescent light. There, giant lanterns beckon ponderously in the wind, and I know I will stop for a minute at the temple, searching for a cat to cajole. Red glow from vertical signs and grill smoke from tented alleys along the train station, two ghosts haunt the city together. I know where I am, here. But I want to be there, lost.