less sulking, more smiling!

Something from Debbie Millman to start off this post:

If you imagine less, less will be what you undoubtedly deserve. Do what you love, and don’t stop until you get what you love. Work as hard as you can, imagine immensities, don’t compromise, and don’t waste time. Start now. Not 20 years from now, not two weeks from now. Now.

And in that vein,


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(Oh, Misha. How he manages to switch between himself and Castiel is beyond me.)

Plus, I’m going back to Blood Promise, and making the final edits before sending it out to the agents who professed interest in it before. Things to do and things to look forward to! No more wandering and wondering in Writer’s Block-ville.

Oh yes, merry Christmas, indeed.

I don’t know about you, but for the first time in my life, I’m feeling … excited for the coming year. New Year’s has always been kinda meh for me: they either meant another year of slogging it out at school, waiting for my life to start, or another year where I had no idea where I’m headed.

This is an excerpt from my New Year’s Eve post in 2007:

I’m so fucking sick of caring.
468 calories from 3 scoops of ice-cream, 525 calories from a lunch of bread and scones, 486 calories from a breakfast of pizza?
Fuck it all. Fuck calories, dress sizes, flat tummies, skinny thighs, sharp noses. Outgoing, athletic, bronzed and confidently cool? That’s something I never will be. I’ll always be ugly, stumpy and miserable: a pinched-faced girl with an over-the-top obsession with calories, fats and her appearance.
It’s okay. I know I’m pathetic. I think I’m pathetic. To the extent that I think I hate myself. 
How is it that some girls can stand in front of the mirror, look at their bodies and shrug at their love handles, the pudge at their tummies, and their thighs glued to each other? Why can’t I? In what way am I lesser than them? In that they love themselves more than I appreciate myself?
It’ll be 2008 in about half an hour’s time. I don’t see what’s so great about it. It seems like I’m entering 2008 just as clueless as I have been in 2007.

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Oh yeah, I was a bright ray of sunshine back then. Must be all the food I was not eating that made me such a miserable, pinch-faced bitch.

But this time, it feels different. Like I have every power to change whatever I’m not satisfied with in my life, instead of sit on my ass and wait for life to happen to me. It’s an entire year of changes waiting to be made! And it’s not just because I’m off what I call the “starvation diet” now (which is the stupidest thing I have ever done – DO NOT do that to yourself ever).

Maybe it’s because we get more bigger picture-y as we grow older and stop zeroing in on the smaller stuff. When we were younger, in our teens, every bit of emotion and experience is heightened, and what people say to us or think of us becomes blown out of proportion. We place too much stock in these things, and when things go awry or fall short of our expectations we are slayed. It’s the end of the world for us, and we rant and weep about it, write emo poetry in the middle of the night, thinking we’ll never be happy again.

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Now, though, it just seems so stupid to fret over the things that don’t matter in the long run. A bite of French fry isn’t going to make me a whale (although more bites might), a bad day will be better after some sleep and a long swim, one piece of criticism doesn’t mean that the entire world hates me.

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I think you can only be as happy as you choose to. I was miserable then because I gave myself the excuse to. It’s because I’m not eating that I’m so cranky. It’s because I need to be in control that I’m not eating. (Which is ironic because I ended up spiralling even more out of control as a result.) Maybe the best we can do is be happy for ourselves, so that we can be happy for the people who matter the most to us.

We’re still one week away from year’s end, but I’m tacking this on my list of New Year’s goals (goals because the word resolutions is just begging for you to fall off the wagon right off the bat). What are your New Year’s goals? :0)