It's day one of a new year and a new chapter in the story of our lives. Since I'm turning 33 in June, I've decided to call this Chapter 33.
So, 2016. All things considered—and despite the untimely deaths of Bowie, Prince and Professor Snape, among others—it was packed with good surprises:
And the traveling and the friending and the magic looks like it'll continue into the new year. January is already packed with new work, trips and visits.
This is chapter 33 of my life. If I'm lucky, I get around 85 of these. You can't waste a whole chapter, or multiple chapters, on things or people you don't like when you could be doing otherwise. There just aren't enough of them.
So let's raise our glasses to the next chapter. The pages are virgin and resplendent in white. We can pick how we mark them. I want to assume that choice every day, even if there's failure and sadness. It's all building to something that I hope will be beautiful, and there's no beauty without strain or real stakes.
Now: off to write a "thankfulness" email to an old new friend in response to her "thankfulness" text, in part because I know she hates email.
So, 2016. All things considered—and despite the untimely deaths of Bowie, Prince and Professor Snape, among others—it was packed with good surprises:
- Generation Creation got published (and I do hope you'll read it, and like it)
- Hurrah got offices, five employees and closed the year off with 3 awesome long-term clients
- I appeared in my first panel in French!
- I made my own soap
- I KonMari'd and it totally changed my life
- I learned to knit, and closed out the year with a big-ass blanket
- I went to concerts!
- I traveled—a lot. Not far, but I discovered new places
And the traveling and the friending and the magic looks like it'll continue into the new year. January is already packed with new work, trips and visits.
This is chapter 33 of my life. If I'm lucky, I get around 85 of these. You can't waste a whole chapter, or multiple chapters, on things or people you don't like when you could be doing otherwise. There just aren't enough of them.
So let's raise our glasses to the next chapter. The pages are virgin and resplendent in white. We can pick how we mark them. I want to assume that choice every day, even if there's failure and sadness. It's all building to something that I hope will be beautiful, and there's no beauty without strain or real stakes.
Now: off to write a "thankfulness" email to an old new friend in response to her "thankfulness" text, in part because I know she hates email.
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