Sometimes I think I choose bad life goals

Yesterday I came across a blog post by Monica Bourgeau suggesting everyone look back on 2013 and list 25 accomplishments. She suggests including things like:

projects you completed, celebrations you facilitated or took part in, family events you scheduled, taking care of your health by completing doctor or dental visits, thoughtful things you did for others, new hobbies or sports you started, fears you overcame, challenges or roadblocks you surmounted, supporting someone else through their challenge or roadblock, paying off debt, eating healthier, starting a gratitude practice, or donating time or money to a worthwhile cause.

When I made my list, it took a different turn.

But, despite their quality, I did accomplish quite a lot in 2013, including:

1. I sucked at least one person into my web of friendship.

(Her name is Lisa.)

(Let us hope she never reads this.)

(My web is only slightly sticky and prone to dropping its prey.)

2. I survived Skye moving to another country.

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3. I forced my friends to take a sad group selfie outside a funeral.

4. I realized sad funeral selfies are actually a really bad idea.

5. I forgot my sad funeral group selfie realization during the after-party.

6. I realized that despite my inability to remember it’s called a reception, it’s also a really bad idea to call a funeral reception an after-party.

(In my defense, Allison mis-understood a text and thought we were being invited to a secondary reception, which could only be called the after-after-party, which is what placed the after-party phrasing in my mind.)

7. I re-realized sad funeral selfies are a really bad idea.

8. I realized I might not have forgotten the first lesson if funeral after parties didn’t come with free Whiskey.

(Mine also came with free ginger ale, as I’m not funeral hardcore.)

9. I did not burn down my house.

(Not every 2013 accomplishment took place at a funeral.)

(Though I did attend three funerals this year, one more than the number of weddings I attended, which a friend suggested is the ultimate sign of old age.)

My living room, right now. Because I'm bad at adulthood.

10. I organized my book shelves by color.

(Don’t worry, most of those skulls are seasonal.)

11. I decided color-coded bookshelves are a terrible idea as it now takes me roughly 10 minutes to find a specific book.

12. I resolved to re-organize bookshelves in 2014.

13. I stopped eating meat.

The excited face of a girl who remembered to do laundry and is thus wearing clean underwear!

14. I broke my first bone.

(Which led to my first non-wisdom teeth removing surgery.)

15. I finished reading all of Agatha Christie’s Poirot books.

(Unless that was in 2012. It’s all a Belgian murder solving blur.)

16. I ran my first (and last) zombie 5k.

17. I bought my first a lot of paint.

18. I started a non-fiction book club with my friends.

19. I stopped scheduling the meetings for the non-fiction book club, thus killing said book club.

(But in a very passive murder manner.)

20. I drank my first glass of sweet tea.

21. I did not have a single dog die under my care.

(The same cannot be said for cats.)

(Purrl, you’re sorely missed.)

22. I learned Vikings didn’t have horns on their helmets.

23. I ate a nut that had passed through an elephant.

I may have gotten myself a little something to remember Asheville by. #epicroadtrip

24. I discovered you can buy  happiness.

(And you can lose happiness.)

(Has anybody seen a green skull ring?)

25. I was not murdered by a serial killer.

(Due, I’m sure, to my constant vigilance, not, as my father suggests, it being an unlikely event that I fear because of deep-set paranoia.)

What were your accomplishments in 2013?

Megan

The 25 Awkwardest Accomplishments of 2013

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Another Wednesday, another night of tennis with dad.

I am 27 years old.

One might assume I’m old enough to know the real me.

(Spoiler alert: the real me is a liar.)

But 8 months ago, when a group email went out asking who wanted to sign up for a zombie 5k, I spent a moment thinking about it and then said yes.

After all, there were so many months left.

Surely, given half a year, I’d change my lifestyle and take up daily running.

(Have I ever mentioned I hate running?)

(It’s a pure and unending hate, one that could inspire poetry or lead to a villain origin story.)

Finally memorialized Wednesday night tennis with dad. #DadFace obviously included.

Last Wednesday, I was playing tennis with my dad.

(I play tennis with my dad on Wednesdays.)

(If by play, you’re assuming I mean he hits tennis balls at me and I frantically run around, attempting to hit said balls in his general direction, good assumption.)

And I thought to casually ask, “so, if you had someone who was about to compete in a shortish distance run but had no training or ability, what advice would you give?”

(I figured my dad might have advice, having taught high school track for many years.)

(There is, in his basement, an All American plaque given to a student that he then gave to my dad to thank him for being the best coach he ever had.)

(He might have secret running cheat codes, was really what I was looking for.)

His advice?

“Don’t do it.”

Take 1

I may sometimes forget that I’m a liar, but I’m always cognizant of my inability to take good advice.

So, last Thursday, I started running.

(My dad’s follow-up advice, upon realizing I wasn’t going to take the initial advice, was to run every day.)

(Which is less like an awesome cheat code and more like a series of terrible days.)

(Poorly advised, dad.)

Take 2

And in the following days, I continued running.

Take 3

(Don’t get too impressed, I only started with one lap, then added half a lap per day.)

Sunday's time of pain.

(By a lap, I mean I was too embarrassed to use the actual track at the local high school so instead use this gravel-y track behind an elementary school that my dad claims is definitely bigger than 220.)

(That number has something to do with track. As does 440. Or I’m remembering wrong and it’s something like 286. I really don’t pay enough attention to these conversations.)

(Also, 220 what? I have no idea.)

I make terrible life choices.

My dad also advised a banana to help with cramping.

And then I had worse cramps than before.

(It turns out bananas, like me, are liars.)

(Don’t trust bananas should be your take away from this post, if that wasn’t clear.)

Last night's life mistakes.

Lindsey, showcasing her amazing quality of friendship, has come out with me every night to stand by and encourage and time me and walk break laps when I want to die and be nice to the foreign man who asked if she was my mother.

She even came with me on Tuesday when I was running so far behind that we had to go out in the dark.

(Running, get it? because that’s what I was running behind on doing? Oh, you get it.)

It turns out elementary schools don’t light their fake tracks at night.

Someone really should start a letter writing campaign about this.

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Wednesday I again played tennis with my dad, then gave in and ran a lap.

And that lap was the first one since I had officially agree to drive other people to the zombie 5k this weekend, thus ensuring I’m actually going and not going to lie and claim other plans, what I told myself was going to happen during every other run.

Different pants day, oh yeah.

Running when you know it’s only going to lead to more running?

Is even worse than normal running.

I’m rather concerned

The other people who’d easily sign up for a 5k

Are possibly people who run

Or have basic muscle usage

So tomorrow is going to be my day of shame

And failure

Keep me in your thoughts,

Megan

My Worst Life Decision Yet (And Down With Bananas, While We’re On The Topic)

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I just made 4 unsuccessful attempts to upload the next Poirot book. This Instagram? Easily went through on the first try. WHY MUST YOU HAUNT ME, GHOST MURDERER/SCIENTIST?

When I was little, 3rd or 4th grade, I can remember having hours long debates with my dad. He was always one for financial savings and was trying to convince me of the need of a savings account.

Not that I disagreed with the basic idea, but I just couldn’t accept his statement that my money would be safe there.

What if the bank collapsed?

The FDIC?

Um, what if the government collapsed?

What if we woke up tomorrow and money meant nothing?

I can’t accurately convey the tone of voice he used in response, but it was similar to the one he still uses today when I warn him about closing the garage door to stop killers from knowing when he’s home.

(This is just basic safety precautions, people.)

(One day he’ll be murdered and I’ll be too sad to feel vindicated and he’ll have escaped from having to hear I told you so by being dead and even if he hung around as a ghost I know he’d still blow me off my ’cause he’s an incredibly annoying non-believer in completely rational arguments and how unfair is that?)

I’m not recanting my fear of complete governmental collapse or of killers watching me from the bushes.

But for 2013 I’ve decided to choose a word.

You know, like people do throughout the Internet and maybe in real life though that’s not really how I know people so I’ll stick to screen-based hearings.

A word they’ll focus on and try and incorporate into their daily life and maybe meditate to, I’m not sure, I haven’t really researched this thing that much.

I’ve also decided to participate in Ali Edward’s One Little Word class because the idea of choosing a word and then living it seemed non-lazy, so I figured it’d be best to have some guidance.

As I pondered some good word choices – breathe, eat-more-cheese, moxie – I realized that maybe my life would be a teensy bit better if I was a tad more fearless.

So wish me luck.

Or send balloons.

‘Cause there’s nothing more comforting in the face of failure than balloons.

If you didn’t get the fearless reference in the above photo

It’s pie we took into an ice cream shop for Lindsey’s birthday

Like the rebels we are,

Megan

p.s. I didn’t send my dad an I TOLD YOU IT COULD HAPPEN WE’RE ALL LIVING ON THE EDGE e-mail during Iceland’s economic meltdown.

p.p.s. But I really, really wanted to.

If I Start Fighting Crime We Can Officially Call This Plan A Success

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