I don’t really have one.
In the morning I think I’m a dysfunctional wreck. By noon, I’m slaying dragons. Or the other way around. I don’t have a consistent view of myself, my purpose, my utility, or my place in the world.
I read somewhere that Stacey Abrams has maintained a spreadsheet of her goals since she was in college. This must work for her since she is quite accomplished although she didn’t meet her goal of being governor of Georgia so I guess that’s still on her spreadsheet.
What I have is not a spreadsheet but a disheveled heap of projects and endeavors that share the quality of having been good ideas at the time. They often cease being good ideas before I put a period at the end of the sentence, my fickleness is that acute. I can turn on an idea before it’s even out of my mouth, heaven forbid it comes out of anyone else’s mouth.
My accommodation to my fickleness is to stop telling people I’m going to do something. I used to think that announcing my intentions would establish a public goal and that I would feel some kind of accountability. I did that with a couple of my 100 blog posts in a row ventures in which I invariably got weak and dispirited around post #5 although I finished the hundred all three times but in a row became not in a daily row, exactly, but more of a sequential row if you get my drift.
So I am thinking about my blog in 2020 when it will be ten years old. In 2019, I made a promise to do no republishing of old posts – something my husband called reruns – so all the content on the blog this year has been new and this has been a bit of a bitch to be truthful. I turned against that idea almost immediately but the prospect of my husband rolling his eyes when he opened his Red’s Wrap email in the morning kept me at it.
I have a blogging goal for 2020 but it’s a secret. Therefore, it could change six times before January 1st when I will lock it in as they say. Yes, I am going to lock in a 2020 blogging goal. For real. You wait and see.