day one.

Well, it certainly has been a while again. And I have a new theory: New Month's Resolutions.

Every year, at the beginning of January, millions of people (myself included) make resolutions that fail 99% of the time. And why? Because we make them and then never look at them again. I'm pretty sure one of the principles of goal setting is to make little checkpoints along the way. For instance, if a person wants to lose 30 pounds, it won't happen unless a workout plan and eating regimen is established. The same is true for every other goal in life. One of my new year's resolutions this year was to get my apartment organized and clean. So, it only makes sense to make goals like: by the end of this month, everything will have a place; no more loose things lying around. I've decided to do this with all my resolutions, plus a few more. So, here we go.

1) (The original resolution was: Get a job.) February resolution: Make some phone calls and do some research.

2) (Original resolution: Finish the Bible.) February resolution: Finish Chronicles through Psalms.

3) (Original resolution: Write a book.) February resolution: Write a chapter, figure out a plot for Tuesday.

4) (Original resolution: Get something published.) February resolution: Do some research in my Writer's Market books.

5) (Original resolution: Get my apartment clean and organized.) February resolution: Have a place for everything.

6) (Original resolution: Be a better wife...) February resolution: Do something special and out of the norm for Mark.

7) (Original resolution: ...daughter...) February resolution: Tell my parents I want them to come eat with us.

8) (Original resolution: ...sister...) February resolution: Call Amy just because.

9) (Original resolution: ...and friend.) February resolution: Write 10 notes to people telling them how much I love them.

10) (Original resolution: Serve. Serve. Serve.) February resolution: Talk to my Hartland girls about Jesus.

11) Finish reading Alice in Wonderland.

12) Write in my prayer journal every day for the rest of the month.

13) Write in my blog every day for the rest of the month. I've decided I'm starting my 365 over again. Welcome, day one.

Well, I think that's enough for now. I've decided I'm going to do this every month, so as to keep a better check on myself and my life. I've found that it's really easy for people who are prone to depression to lose themselves in meaningless things for months at a time, only to emerge and realize that half their life has slipped by. I don't want to be one of those people anymore.

Depression comes and goes in funny ways and times. It's frustratingly unpredictable, and it really is an addiction. As badly as you want it to disappear, there's the familiarity of it, just like alcohol or pain pills or purging food. Often, it's harder to fight depression off and "be happy" than it is to succumb to the dull state of meaninglessness. I'm getting a lot better at it though; it just takes some time. Since this is my second round of major depression in my life, I've had experience. It's comforting because I got out once. It's nightmarish to think of the statistics, though: 30% of people who have had major depression once are likely to go through it a second time. However, 70% of the people who go through it twice are likely to go through third and fourth (and on it goes) rounds throughout their lifetime. Great news, eh? Oh well, I do believe in hope and strength from Jesus, which is all that's getting me through these days. I suppose he's all that will ever get me through life, though.

In other news, the theory of global warming has been proven to be complete bullshit. Where is Al Gore these days? Probably in Australia to avoid ridicule. It's already the third snow day of the year here in West Tennessee, and they're calling for more this weekend. I'm definitely not complaining. If it's this cold, it needs to snow. And secondly, I love when Mark is home from work. So bring on the Ice Age: I'm ready.

Well, that's really all I have for now. I've gotten further with my ideas for my character Tuesday, although my plot has completely changed. I'm still foggy on where I'm going in the end, but I'll just try to work on the beginning for now. I like to write stuff on here first and then save it in a word document. Word documents are like a brain block to me sometimes. I tend to just sit there and stare at the curser for a really long time with no direction. If I'm writing on here, though, I feel like I need to go someplace so I can post my work. So, hopefully this will inspire some words that will become worth something someday.

***

September 19, 1996

Dear Diary,

Guess what? I'm twelve years old today. Today! I'm so excited. And my birthday is on a Friday, how lucky is that?! I don't have much time to write, but I just wanted to write something on the best day of my life so far. Today for lunch, Mimi and Paw Paw are coming over, and tonight, I'm having Allison, Kayley, Jewel, Rose, and Ashley to spend the night at the cabin! Mom, Dad, Ivy, and Bear are coming too. Well, that's all for now. Hasta la vista!

Love,

Tuesday

My name is Tuesday - yes, like the day of the week. I didn't know it at the time, but my twelfth birthday was a monumental event. Life is funny that way; often, we seem to place the most importance on all the wrong things. For instance, in my twelfth year of life, I was concerned about how to wear my hair, who to sit with at church, what new phrase I could learn in Spanish, and what shade of lip gloss matched my purse that matched my shoes. Looking back, I should've been spending my time hugging my dad, asking my mom how to make her vegetable soup, going to the mall with Ivy, and telling Bear that his girlfriend Leah was an idiot. But I didn't, and I couldn't predict the future. If I had only known what my thirteenth birthday would be like, my twelfth one would have meant so much more. Twelve year olds don't think like that though - not even Mother Theresa or Martin Luther King, Jr. On their twelfth birthdays, I can guarantee she was a brat and he was racist. It's just a fact of life: twelve-year-olds are consumed with themselves. They just are.

One June Saturday, when I was nine and Bear was thirteen, I helped him wash and wax both our family cars while my parents were gone on a shopping trip with the Murdock's from down the street. It was his idea, and I just wanted to keep him company. I remember the conversation we had like it was seconds ago, though:

"Bear, why are we doing this?" I asked.

"To surprise Mom and Dad when they get home," he answered.

"But Bear, can't they do it themselves?"

"Well, 'course they can." A few moments went by with no sound except our squeaking sponges. The sun beat our backs like it wanted to be included in the conversation, too.

"Then why are we doing it for them?" I said finally.

"Because it's nice," he replied.

My sponge stopped moving as I pondered this thought. "I don't understand."

"What do you mean, you don't understand?"

"I just don't know why they can't do it themselves."

"Tuesday, you're only nine. One of these days, you're gonna understand that sometimes you do nice things for people because you love them, y'see? Things mean a lot more to somebody when they didn't ask you to do them. Like the other day, remember when Ivy cleaned up all your toys so you wouldn't get in trouble when Mom got home? That's 'cause she loves you."

I thought about this seriously for a few moments. I was impressed with Bear's thought process. "Can we wash Gunner after we finish the cars? I bet Daddy'd like that."

He smiled down at me. " 'Course we can. I tell you what, Lil' Day, you're a smart one." Bear was always telling me how smart I was.

I didn't fully understand the concept, though. I was still awfully self-absorbed, but I tried to emulate Bear the best I could. To this day, he is the most servant-hearted person I've ever seen - well, he and my mother. I only wish I had understood before it was too late.

***