I'm usually not one for closure, or symbolism, but when the calendar flips to 2019 it'll feel like a different me—a less quality me—has been banished to the past forever. Being on regular meds is making a difference in my outlook, although it hasn't had much impact on my social apprehension.

I can live with that. As long as I've got my circle of homies and homettes, it's not important how well I connect with Burt The Bank Teller or Robin The Random Passerby.

When there's goals to be met, I do not wait for the calendar to flip to 20-whatever; I go ahead and work toward the goal. It just so happens that the emergence of new goals has coincided with the arrival of January 2019.

Obviously, I'm scaling back on the energy drinks. 
Getting re-acquainted with the bike. 
Getting re-acquainted with the sidewalk.

I'm going to pay closer attention to change being given to me at markets...sometimes, cashiers make mistakes, and other times they make "mistakes". Until TheSkillzReport.com blows up, every dollar counts in these parts!

Speaking of TSR: In 2019, I'll FINALLY be caught up on the backlog of updates created by my nine-month 2016-17 sabbatical. When it is caught up, I'll be pounding the pavement to promote it via 80's music lyric contest. I'm confident this contest will draw hundreds to TSR and its Twitter page, and unless I'm wrong, I'm always right!

Watching more movies (at home). 
Trying more new music. 
Continuing to practice my Spanish.

By this time next year, I hope to be able to hold a broken Spanish (or Spanglish) conversation as I once could in the early 2000's before the cute Spanish girl at Taco Bell got axed. She was a hard worker when she felt like showing up. But I'm not here to talk about the past.
I intend to work harder at being Josie's dad rather than her fat, old buddy. She still respects me as an authority figure, but if I continue playing Roblox with her for hours at a time and not enforcing a vacation bedtime...that may not last.

Keeping my head shaved and expanding bald spot concealed. 
Stocking up on better-fitting pants...let's face it, I'm no 46 anymore. 
Ditching "nice" kicks that hurt my knees.

What means more to me than anything above: Being a better son to my mom. My buddy lost his mom suddenly a couple of months ago, and she was several years younger than my mama. Mom won't live forever, and when she does go (hopefully three decades from now) I'll be without my #1 supporter and fan.

The least I can do is treat her well, and realize it's not all about me. Selflessness isn't a strength of mine..but I'll give effort.
In 2019, I hope to participate in two Josie activities that'll take me light years out of my comfort zone: an April trip to LegoLand and Girl Scout cookie sales in February.

Both will require contact and/or interaction with a stream of strangers, and if I'm not medicated there's no guarantee I won't simply yelp and run away when uncomfortable...better get that Zoloft supply stocked up.

Easing up on the coffee. 
Lifting a damn weight once in a while. 
And lastly, dropping the guilt/shame over incidents from up to 30 years ago...what the hell good does it do carrying that around?
Happy New Year. Have a beer for me; I'm on dad duty.