Goals Are Stupid, Anyway

I’m pretty sure setting goals is, like, the epitome of Adulting, but it’s really hard for me.  Either I go way too big, and I’m all, “Okay, starting today, I’m going to immediately be making $100,000/year, and also I have just lost thirty pounds!”  And then it turns out that I can’t start making that much money all of a sudden with two crappy jobs and a writing career that’s totally on the cusp of taking off.  And, as for the second part, a goal can’t be something you’ve just done, especially when you haven’t actually done it.

Or (remember, this was an either/or scenario in the previous paragraph) I set goals that are both utterly meaningless and 100% out of my control.  For example, routinely, at my book-keeping job, I’m all, “Okay, so the change in this bag is going to be under $30,” which is something that doesn’t actually affect me at all, and also has been decided by the Universe before I even touched the till.

The point I’m making is that today, I had set a goal for myself of relaxing and taking the day off from writing, because it’s ‘Merica Day and I already had/have to work my other two jobs, but then I got bored and I did a job for a client and am also writing a blog post (this one, right here), and I’m pretty sure that once I’m done with this, I’m gonna do some editing on a short story I’m working on.

I’m pretty good at other Adulting, though.  Like eating healthy and reading books and paying my bills and stuff like that.  I can’t think of anything that would make a good picture for this post, so I’m going to, as usual, fall back on posting a picture of one of my pets.  Here’s Chalupa from when she was taking a nap the other day on my laundry, and then woke up and had laundry around her neck.