New year. Same Chaos Cow.

2026

I'm not Cher. I'll not be reinventing myself. I like myself. But improving myself? We shall see. 

Had an office supply Christmas! 🥳

This includes:

shredder

36 gel pens

MORE post-it notes

little white cat holder for said post-it notes

a comb binding machine 

and a cool rack for my books when I venture to events

Still same body. Same attitude. Same neurodivergent self.

The new year looks to bring, hopefully, more time for self. A time to not only inhale, but exhale as well. When in pain, I will hold my breath, as if the mere fact I'm depriving myself of oxygen will help the pain. It doesn't. 

Going to try and breathe through this year and all its many facets. Easy to say on January 1, 2026. Harder to say on March 20, 2026. So, I guess, continuation? A recommitment to these goals? 

I was a control freak, for the longest time, when I raised my kids. Early twenties. Solo parent. Three kids. A year apart. I needed to feel as though I had some power over everything in my world.

I've mellowed a bit, thank God. But I still have those moments when my fists are clenched tight around something I should, perhaps, let go.

Writing?

OMG!!! 

I'm literally nearly 30,000 words in on a Women's Fiction piece I started like three weeks ago. It's smooth like buttah.  Edit "Out of the Shadows". And I would speculate where I go from there, but honestly? I didn't see this women's fiction piece at all until I couldn't stop thinking about it.

We lets the brain do what the brain does. Otherwise? Regret. Lots of it.

That's me. The first day of 2026. Already have a list for tomorrow. Because...of course I do. 😁

Instant gratification

I suck at TikTok. I keep trying to make it meaningful. Working on that later today. Let's face it, you have a good three to five seconds, if that, to make your case. I ramble on like we're having a conversation. I fail at TikTok. I have to laugh.

Instagram? I do better there. I don't do anything live so I'm mostly posting videos I've already made, at this juncture. They seem to also be too long. 😕

People's expectations of immediacy have grown exponentially. Buffering is a large thing of the past, and BOY, DO PEOPLE GET PISSED if they have to experience that little inconvenience again. Waiting for food? Sweet Jesus. Customers would rather abuse the wait staff and servers than WAIT FOR FRESH FOOD. And get this:  stop signs. I drove back to my hometown the other day to grab a grandchild, and nearly every four-way stop, but two, cars rolled through them. CARS KEPT DRIVING THROUGH A STOP SIGN. Because obviously they needed to do a heart transplant and had no time to spare. 😑

Instant gratification expectation is dangerous. It's an entitled mindset. Unless it is a true emergency, instant gratification is a gift. I bought The Tortured Poets Department from iTunes, and it downloaded immediately. I watched it check off each song as it added to my library. I was grateful. I remember cassettes. 😄

Instant can be great. Chicken in the air fryer. Streaming nearly anything you want at your fingertips. Buying in the blink of an eye. Making connections. 

But please don't forget we crawled for a bit. Then learned to walk. Now we're wanting to run the Olympics when we haven't trained for it. 

It's time to appreciate the time in-between. The flavor of the food. The feel of that grandbaby or baby asleep on your chest. Lyrics that resonate with your soul. Your feline son who makes sure you're never in a room alone. (I love you, Simba. 💖)

Always writing*

...and ruminating...