Goals, Not Resolutions.

I do not make resolutions, they really annoy me. And I'm not even entirely sure why they annoy me - but they do. I think it's the whole "what's the point?! You know you won't stick to them anyway!" thing that does it. And actually, I think it's partly because I'm pretty happy with the way I live at the moment. You know, I'm just okay, I guess it's practically illegal for a woman under thirty to be happy with her life, her body, her... anything really. So, anyway, this blog is not going to be a blog for resolutions, but it is going to be a blog for goals. Things I want to achieve this year, not "this must change" because I've never responded well to orders, even those from myself.

I want to exercise more - pretty common, huh? It's not because I'm fat, it's because just walking up those frigging stupid stairs at my university nearly gives me a heart attack. I want to be more fit, I want to be able to run for more than thirty seconds without colapsing in a heap. I also want to be more toned. Like I said, I'm not fat but I do jiggle a little more than I'd like to in a few places where nobody wants to jiggle. Once that's sorted, I'll be pretty happy with how I'm looking - especially after I get this stupid pink tint out of my hair (don't even ask).

I want to read books. Lots and lots of books. And the ones I have to read for my Politics course DO NOT COUNT. I want to read fiction: fantasy, horror, mystery, realistic, paranormal, dystopian... all of it! I read 245 books last year and I know I don't stand a hope in hell of coming anywhere near that this year, but I want to read about a hundred books (just under two a week), I think that's manageable. On top of reading, I want to write the novel that's been taking shape in my head. I need to do more planning for it, solidify my ideas, because if I don't I'll just end up doing what I've done with the thousands of other novels I've started and never finished: losing my grasp of it. I want to take this one seriously and work it out properly, I really, really do. For the first time in a very long while, I have faith in an idea.

I want to get a job. Actually, that's a complete lie, I need to get a job, but I don't really want to at all. Oh well, I'll work it out. I like having money more than I dislike having a job so these sacrifices will have to be made.

Okay, and here's the complete tangent that I used to be famous for back when I regularly updated this blog. Recently I read and reviewed a book, and then I read it's sequel and I am currently awaiting the final installment to come out later this month. The series is labelled "BDSM erotica" by goodreads users and described by many reviewers as repugnant, disgusting, insulting to women... I'm not going to be so petty as to disregard other people's opinions, but I just wanted to say I didn't see it as any of those things. I saw it as the story of a man who was abused as a child and this made hime become a sexual sadist in his adult life to be able to cope with his trauma. But he finally finds a woman who he can love and who loves him back but doesn't want to participate in his lifestyle... so he gives it up to be with her because she is what he needs now, not the BDSM stuff. And "insulting to women"? The woman has complete control in this relationship because nothing happens that she doesn't want to happen. All the "Dom's" control is an illusion given to him by the female sub. I don't understand, it just goes to show that literature really is all about interpretation and that people will automatically not like something because it has it's roots in Twilight fanfiction.