The second day of 2015 is, for me, another day filled with unproductive (in)activity: scrolling down FB, Twitter, and Instagram feeds, and generally doing nothing. And yes, my January 1 was not any different. Not a good way to start the new year really. But as I’ve contemplated on what my resolutions should be, I was overwhelmed with the fact that I failed to achieve many of my writing goals last year. And with this revisiting of should-haves and could-haves comes the familiar, crippling feeling of inability and inadequacy—that sneaky sense of panic brought about by the sudden clarity of the massive amount of work that still needs to be done versus the seemingly accelerated passage of time gaining more speed as the deadline looms in closer and closer. Thus, the lethargy, the inevitably futile attempt to delay experiencing the discomfort I richly deserve:

Will I ever finish this thesis?

And so here I am finally deciding on my one resolution this year: looking and seeing with the eyes, the mind, the heart, intuition…to be able to find the inspiration and the grit to finish a decently written thesis. If I do one thing this year, this is it.

So I’m welcoming the beginnings of some tension on my neck and shoulders, the stirrings of discomfort which I truly hope would prove to be lively and impossible to ignore, and would only ease (a little) when some thinking, analyzing, writing is done.

This is good. I’m glad.

(P.S. Please send positive thoughts to the continuance of my discomfort. I appreciate it, thanks.)