Now and then this query comes up as a prompt on WordPress, and I think I answer it differently every time. My dream job at this time? Retirement. I’m 62, and I will work until 67; then I will retire. For the first time in my life, my dream job is within my reach.
What will I do when I retire? Probably write a lot; get up later in the morning, wear sweats all day. I would find a purpose and Big Audacious Goals, but I would not be going into work in the mornings.
I will take being retired seriously, as I do all my jobs. I will give relaxing my best effort. I will make sure I do a great job of relaxing.
When I was 12, my mother made a denim newsboy cap out of scrap jeans. It looked like this but slouchier because it wasn’t as stiff. I claimed it as my own, much to her dismay, because she wanted to wear it. She finally gave in, and I wore it almost everywhere but at school. I was a very fashionable little kid.
It was my companion for many, many years, having found its way to college with me. Eventually it got too threadbare, and I had to retire it to the garbage. “Eventually” in this case was when I was in my late thirties. So it’s been gone for a while, but it had a long life. 25 years. Especially when it was made with worn denim.
I miss that hat. A purchased denim newsboy cap does not have near the charm of my mother’s creation nor the workmanship, and maybe I’m at the age where it doesn’t suit me anymore. But if its twin showed up in my life, I would certainly buy it.
I’m 62 years old, and I am relatively healthy. Not as healthy as I could be; my kidneys are slightly off from some medicine I used to take, and I have a slightly larger heart than I should. I have bipolar disorder. A few medicines keep me in good shape.
I could see myself opting for a longer life. I don’t feel like I’ve lived long enough at this age. I have things I want to do, like retire and write. A few more years would be nice. Thirty or forty? Excellent. A hundred? Let me think about that.
Would I still have a purpose in my second century? I don’t know that I could live without a purpose. And that would depend on how healthy I am. If I spent my advanced years sick and decrepit, I don’t think that I would like to live that long.
The answer to whether I would like a very long life is ‘that depends on how healthy I am, and whether I had a purpose.’
I’ve lost almost 70 pounds in the last 228 days. I have done it counting calories, eating a somewhat low-carb diet, and taking Ozempic. My health depended on it; I had a couple of problems directly related to my weight.
I am still overweight. I started at 255 pounds, and now I’m just shy of 185. I will probably stop losing weight pretty soon because I don’t think my body will lose any more. It hasn’t lost any in weeks, so this might be my stopping place.
I still have chub, and I have lots of skin. Taking the skin off would be cosmetic surgery, and thus not covered by insurance. It’s also major surgery with possible complications. I will have to live with my body as it is.
I am afraid I will have to eat like this for the rest of my life, which isn’t bad, except I only eat 1000-1200 calories a day. I don’t know if that’s sustainable. They’re also going to want to wean me off the Ozempic, and I will go back to always being hungry.
I have gained weight back more times than I can count. This is not a cliche, this is the truth. I don’t want to gain it back because I can’t deal with the health consequences of gaining again. But it’s going to be really hard to keep it off. I’m worried.
It’s not a lack of willpower that causes us to be fat; it’s the fact that the body does not lose weight very well, especially after a lifetime of gaining and losing. It’s the fact that society expects skinny bodies, and some of us are fated not to have that.
I plan to publish two books this year, Avatar of the Maker and Kringle Once More. The books are already written and edited. The added material (About the Author, Dedication, etc.) are already added. They are formatted. All I have to do is have a cover made for Avatar and upload, then click and we’re published. The publication dates are October 1, 2026 for the Kringle book, and January 1, 2027 for the other.
The reason it’s a Big Audacious Goal is because of the insecurities I feel as a writer. I am one of the many indie writers that doesn’t get many sales. I assume I am not a good writer because of this. In actuality, I am one of the many indie writers hampered by obscurity, the large number of writers in the indie industry, and preconceived notions of indie publications. (And possibly because I’m not a good writer.)
Other Big Audacious Goals — I plan to finish a book this year. I have two in limbo — the romance Walk Through Green Fire, and the Hidden in Plain Sight novel Hiding in Plain Sight. The latter, although close to finished, is a mess, with too much sitting around and talking and not enough action. So that’s an ambitious rewriting project. The former is something I put aside to write Carrying Light, another Hidden in Plain Sight novel that I wrote last year but somehow didn’t put on my Big Audacious Goal list.
Why didn’t I put Carrying Light on my Big Audacious Goal list last year? Probably because I thought writing another novel wasn’t that audacious given that I had already written several. But any new creation is audacious. How could creation not be a shot against the bow of Things As They Are?
So I have Big Audacious Goals. I have other goals, not yet fleshed out. I have ideas, which are not yet goals. I have enough to keep me busy this year.
Every year, on New Year’s Day, I make it a point to do the things I want to carry through the next year. One of the things I’m doing today is writing my blog, because I have let it go for too long.
I had burned myself out writing daily for a year, so I let it go for a couple of weeks, which turned out to be two or three weeks, then several weeks more. Then I lost the habit of writing and the initiative.
Now I’m thinking of writing today. Not a resolution, but a goal. Which means I need to set it up as a SMART goal — specific, measurable, attainable, relevant, time-bound. Here goes: I will write my blog at least twice a week, on Mondays and Fridays, in the morning before I work.
Now that I got that out of the way, here’s my first blog of the year:
How was 2025? It was a year of shock and horror looking at what came out of our government. We became a harsher, more bitter nation, obsessed with ‘sticking it’ to someone else. Personally, it was a year of little excitement, of doing my day to day routine and getting by. I don’t mind that; I’m older, and I’ve wearied of big surprises. My bipolar is under control, and my weight is down by almost 70 pounds. I pulled triumph out of failure for my research this year and made two presentations, which will keep my boss happy. I am one year closer to retirement — I’m looking at 5 years now.
What are my big plans for the New Year? I have two books I want to publish at the end of the year: a Kringle book and a Hidden in Plain Sight book. I have completed both (except for a cover for Avatar of the Maker). Finishing the editing and the formatting was a 2025 goal that I discovered at the last minute. Other than that, it will be another year without big surprises. I hope. Especially from the government.
My cooking specialty is a Thai dish, and not a common one for restaurants. It is Nam Ya, a dish of fish in a light curry sauce, served over noodles with a decent amount of cilantro.
It’s easy to make. Put half a can of green curry paste, a can of coconut milk, and half a can of water into a pot, with a lime leaf, a squeeze of lime juice, a half-teaspoon of sugar, and a chunk of dried galangal to add flavor. (Sometimes I put in chopped cilantro stems because I love cilantro.) Add a good dash of fish sauce and simmer till the mixture is smooth, then add flaked cooked catfish and heat. Serve over rice noodles and top with cilantro.
To me, this is comfort food, good for when I’m getting over the flu or just have had a bad day. It’s spicy, mellow, and fresh-tasting. I could use some right now!
Group of anchovy basket at fishing outdoor farmers market, anchovy is material to make fish sauce, very delicious Vietnamese food, many produce of fishery cover by ice to keep fresh
The lesson I didn’t learn until I was in my early thirties, that I wish I would have learned a lot sooner, was “Not everyone is going to like you, and you’re not going to like everyone.”
As a child, I wanted everyone to like me. I think this was because I didn’t get the feeling of always being loved by my parents. I had a very uneven upbringing, where my mother threatened me with abandonment as a form of discipline.
Everyone didn’t like me. I was bullied in school, not surprisingly, because I was so needy. It’s ironic, but the people who get bullied are the ones who need friendship the most. They are vulnerable, and bullies seek vulnerability.
As an adult, this need to be liked carried over. As a professor, this helped me get along with my students, but afraid to stand up to them. I did anyhow, somehow, but felt bad when they didn’t like me anymore.
Then one day, in a therapy group, I ran into a bully at a very vulnerable time. The therapist gave me permission to think sadistic thoughts about the bully. I didn’t go so far, but it was a shock to my system that I didn’t have to belly up in front of her and grovel till she liked me.
Later, a social worker told me “Not everyone’s going to like you, and you’re not going to like everyone.” That was probably the most important piece of advice someone has ever given me. I no longer try to ingratiate myself to people who dislike me. My life is a lot calmer and more peaceful. And not everyone has to like me. I’m okay.
I’ve remembered to write my blog today, about one day later, so maybe I am making progress.Time to remind myself that I am a writer, even if I feel little like one lately. I have a book I want to write, a Christmas romance novel, of which I have the basic outline laid out. I will start writing it on November 1st. Even if I don’t get those 50k words by December 1, I will make progress.
Then there’s the other story, the one I don’t think is going well. Maybe I should look at it and see what it needs. A burial in a lead casket is a possibility unless I figure out how to make it a little less dark. Maybe it’s supposed to be that dark, but it’s ceased being fun to write.
Maybe I’ll feel like writing again, and it will become part of my life.
It turns out I’m doing a really bad job of writing lately. I always seem to forget my writing days. Maybe I have a lot more to keep my mind on than usual; maybe work is calling me away too often. Maybe I’m just tired. But my writing (both blogging and story-wise) are not happening.
Maybe it’s not the season to write. I hope that’s not the case, because I’m supposed to write a Christmas romance in November. I’m already going to be a couple days behind because of a conference I’m going to.
Here’s hoping the universe showers me with the gift of writing.
Words Like Me 