I make lists because my memory is short, and because my father said that lists are a way to give your goals shape.  Lists are road maps, stair steps, and eventually crumpled up reminders of what has grown unimportant.  I wrote a new list at the end of last year, very carefully because I plan to keep it all through this upcoming year; It’s a list of twenty-six things to do in 2012.

1. Visit a place with turquoise water and white, sandy beaches.

A little something to move, shock and inspire you, from Toronto-based photographer Jeff Harris.

I devised an impressive to-do list this morning as I ate breakfast in sunny Cancun. By dinnertime I found myself in a dark, cold and thankfully snow-free parking lot at Pearson Toronto airport. The airport mayhem and change in location were quickly declared excuses to abandon my Cancun breakfast list altogether. I spent the evening in pajamas uploading photos onto flick as the husband snoozed and the suitcases lay still-packed, Momo the cat curled up in my souvenir Luchador mask. This is one of the flickr photos I added, a photo of the mincemeat tarts Mia made at the shop during the holidays. It’s a reminder of how exciting December was and how excited I am now to be home in a brand new year.

‘I’m so busy’ I keep telling everyone breathlessly, as if the earth’s balance hinges upon my speedy replies and presence at parties.  As it turns out, it actually hinges upon whether or not you buy your daughter a Teacup Piggy this Christmas. Its capabilities include begging people to take it shopping, just like a real pig who drives a limo and lives in a teacup. I’m joking of course, what your kid really wants this Christmas is a terrifying shark zeppelin.

It’s possible that my level of social participation hasn’t actually changed at all. I just have better excuses for being away, excuses that are speakable. Instead of spending my spare time sleeping or watching episodes of Star Trek, I’m now busy sleeping, watching Trek as I shovel elaborate home cooked dinners into my face (multitasking), writing a blasted novel (slowly), blogging for Ruby Eats, and managing a few more projects that I’m keeping quiet for now. I’ve not been this active or happy in a long while.

The novel I’m writing is for Nanowrimo, as I’ve previously mentioned so many times that I should just tattoo ‘I’M WRITING A NOVEL’ across my face. It sounds important and dramatic.  I lie about my word count, you know. I have a decent excuse for that too though: these are the first pages of fiction I’ve written in years. It’s like I’m learning to walk again, which is dramatic-sounding as well.

My writing deadline is November 30th, and as the date draws near I realize that this whole speed-writing 50,000 words thing is bound to be a wondrous, lesson-filled failure. I’m a big fan of the short-fall; it assures me that I’m reaching high, stretching far.  I’m trying to kill my inner perfectionist and make friends with failure.  Me and failure need to hang out more often, sharing windmill high-fives and making fun of perfectionism’s nose.  Earlier this year my perfectionism was evidenced by polished papers scrapped at the last minute because they weren’t good enough, the exasperated look on my husband’s face when I revised a thesis for the seventh time, and a tendency to write essays within essays within essays. I didn’t learn very much.  A perfectionist’s challenge is to reconcile failure with their fragile ego. Calling yourself a perfectionist is just a round-about way of saying that you’re too afraid to bother with anything you haven’t already mastered.  Failures can actually be perfect failures if they are a result of courageously sucking at something.  What keeps me writing is the thought that I’m just a few embarrassing sentences closer to the epic sentence I’m going to write.

I’m writing for another blog, and am also trying to write a novel. But I’m still here! For now:

Beef Chiefs are playing tonight at The Cameron House with Friendly Rich & The Lollipop People! It’s going to be a good old fashioned O’Town Throwdown, so bring your pals, your gals and your grandmother too.  Feel free to don your tin foil hat and finest fireproof drinking suit.  The fun begins at 9pm and the address is 408 Queen Street West.  To prepare yourself for what is to come, please view the following training videos: