Happy new year!

One of my resolutions — surprise surprise — has to do with reading. I finished 57 books in 2019. At the same time, I actively avoided tomes such as Gnomon or Jonathan Strange and Mr. Norrell because I knew committing the time to those books would mean walking away with a lower overall number.

So this year, instead of counting books, I’m counting pages. I’m aiming for 20,200 (so 2020 with an extra zero), which makes longer books more enticing because I read faster the deeper I get in a book. This comes out to 55 pages per day… which may not be entirely realistic… or maybe it is. Who knows? I guess I’ll have a better sense after the first month.

And now… back to my book.

What are your resolutions?

The Guardian had a piece where a self-described pessimist attempted to become an optimist. Spoiler alert: he’s able to change his outlook. (I’m thinking that if Tim had not been moderately successful, he wouldn’t have spent 800 or so words talking about the experiment. So I guessed the ending.)

That’s all optimism or pessimism is… an outlook. He writes near the end of the article: “Once you accept that at least a portion of your pessimism is just a story you tell yourself – and an inaccurate one at that – it’s hard to hang on to it.” But the opposite is true, too.

Optimism is just a story you tell yourself — and an inaccurate one at that, too.

I spent the last year taking 15 minutes out of every day to better myself. And I really do feel like I’ve improved my life, either with new knowledge or a new way of seeing the world. I’ve rounded up new hobbies and joined groups. But I thought I would end the year somehow more optimistic. A sunnier person. I thought it was inevitable as I read book after book on happiness psychology.

But that didn’t happen. I’m still Melissa. And I’m still fairly pessimistic, though clearly there has to be some optimism in there or I wouldn’t believe I could better myself. Pessimism is just the story I tell myself. It’s interesting that I would choose to tell myself that story; that it would still feel true after spending a year listening to and thinking about other types of stories.

But the pessimism one fits me like a favourite coat. One that I believe I can take on and off but still opt to wear out into the cold, cold world.

It’s the end of a decade; the first decade where I spent every year in it blogging. Isn’t that a strange thought? From the beginning of 2010 until the end of 2019–I captured a decade of my life with words.

Cheers to 2020.

Not sure what #MicroblogMondays is? Read the inaugural post which explains the idea and how you can participate too.

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I want a Dame, the reusable tampon applicator. I know this isn’t a great use of my money. I am two minutes away from menopause; how many more tampons will I possibly need in this lifetime? And it’s not like you can pass it along to someone else when you’re done. (Here, take my used reusable tampon applicator.)

But I got sucked into the video of how it works, and then Googled it and read reviews. And now I want to become part of the Dame family. I want to smarmily nod at a fellow Dame as she washes out her tampon applicator, like Tesla owners acknowledging each other while they plug in their cars.

I am only half joking.

I mean, I am completely joking about making eye contact with another person washing out their Dame. I am completely serious about wanting a Dame.

Totally gross but beyond that, what do you think?

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Are you also doing #MicroblogMondays? Add your link below. The list will be open until Tuesday morning. Link to the post itself, not your blog URL. (Don’t know what that means? Please read the three rules on this post to understand the difference between a permalink to a post and a blog’s main URL.) Only personal blogs can be added to the list. I will remove any posts that are connected to businesses or are sponsored post.

I’m reading Maria Konnikova’s Mastermind right now, which is about how to think like Sherlock Holmes. I realized about five pages into the book that I don’t want to think like Sherlock Holmes, but I’m finishing the book nonetheless because it’s fascinating.

Starting with the dedication page. She kicks off the book with two related quotes. The first comes from WH Auden:

Choice of attention—to pay attention to this and ignore that—is to the inner life what choice of action is to the outer. In both cases man is responsible for his choice and must accept the consequences. As Ortega y Gasset said: “Tell me to what you pay attention, and I will tell you who you are.” —W. H. AUDEN

Later, on the third page of the book, she includes a second quote from William James:

William James, the father of modern psychology, wrote that “the faculty of voluntarily bringing back a wandering attention, over and over again, is the very root of judgment, character, and will.”

It’s an interesting question: are you in complete control of what you pay attention to? If we think about control as a continuum, actions are on one end of the control line. I can decide to do or not do something (most of the time). On the other end of the spectrum, though still pretty close to the center, is control of my reactions. I can mostly decide how I’m going to react to someone else’s actions or words.

But attention? I can choose to pay attention to something, but can I really choose not to pay attention to something? I mean, sure, I can show a person that I’m not giving their antics attention, but I still need to technically pay attention in order to not pay attention. I need to notice so I know to avoid.

Does that make sense?

So in the end, the only way to ignore is to focus on the thing you want to ignore.

About this time last year, Josh started broaching the topic of our future empty nest in earnest, gently bringing it up every few months. His cousin — a fellow parent of twins — told us that they hadn’t prepared and were completely immobilized for months after their twins left for college, not knowing what to do with themselves.

We talked about it a lot in France this summer, tossing out ideas while we sat on the boardwalk in Perros Gueric. Okay, tossing out ideas while I sobbed on the boardwalk in Perros Gueric. I knew I had to spend the fall taking actual steps toward new interests because the longer I waited, the emptier the activities would feel–obvious substitutions vs. actual interests. Plus the kids are busy with their own interests and activities and friends and mountains of homework. I needed to fill in my hours.

We’ve taken up birdwatching and already have two birdwatching trips planned for the spring and summer. I joined Friends of the Library and started volunteering with them. I volunteer weekly with the kangaroos. I joined the LGBTQ group at our shul. I joined a book club. Josh and I have a shortlist of classes we want to take or activities we want to start doing. We’re going out with friends more often. I started a research project for a book I’m planning to write.

My life at the end of 2019 looks different from my life at the beginning of 2019. I don’t feel at peace, but I also don’t feel as panicked. Which is a small, good thing.

Looking forward to 2020. And I hope you are, too.

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Stop procrastinating. Go make your backups. Don’t have regrets.

Seriously. Stop what you’re doing for a moment. It will take you fifteen minutes, tops. But you will have peace of mind for days and days. It’s the gift to yourself that keeps on giving.

As always, add any new thoughts to the Friday Backup post and peruse new comments in order to find out about methods, plug-ins, and devices that help you quickly back up your data and accounts.

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And now the blogs…

But first, second helpings of the posts that appeared in the open comment thread last week. In order to read the description before clicking over, please return to the open thread:

• “#MicroblogMondays: This Is What It’s Like” (The Road Less Travelled)
• “The Last Moon Cycle of the Decade” (The Barreness)
• “Don’t Render Me Invisible” (No Kidding in NZ)

Okay, now my choices this week.

Risakerslake looks back at a decade (a little more profound than looking back at a year). From infertility not even being on the radar to becoming a parent to two girls via donor egg, she takes you through her roller coaster ride while conjuring up your own decade in the back of your mind. It’s amazing to look back on how much has changed in ten years.

It’s Inconceivable has a post of snapshots about Christmas. It is not an easy holiday for many people. She writes, “It’s deciding a few years ago to cease stressing about creating the perfect Christmas for everyone else and taking back control and doing things your own way – logging out of social media, mainstream tv etc, not attending triggering events and tending to your own needs.” Amen.

Lastly, No Kidding in NZ has a post about the stories we tell ourselves. She points out that some of the pain of being child-free after infertility (or even infertility itself) is that you need to change the story. The new tale goes against the one you were telling yourself. She explains, “We suffer because we have, for so long, told ourselves how happy we will be when we get pregnant/adopt/become parents. We suffer because we have told ourselves it is the only acceptable outcome.” I love this post, and it’s such an important read as well as a tool for reflection for the stories you’re telling yourself.

The roundup to the Roundup: All my new activities. Your weekly backup nudge. And lots of great posts to read. So what did you find this week? Please use a permalink to the blog post (written between December 20th and 27th) and not the blog’s main url. Not understanding why I’m asking you what you found this week? Read the original open thread post here.