WOW. WOW ME. It’s only been 3 days of 2019 and I’ve already broken one of my 2019 bookish resolutions. Only ONE day for me to even make my 2019 bookish resolutions. Ha. It would be funny except it isn’t.
If you read my post that I published YESTERDAY (good lord I’m really annoyed with myself aren’t I) I said that I’d set myself 100 books. I knew I was delusional to say it, and now I know even more.
I think I was living in some kind of temporary false sense of security that schoolwork wouldn’t become more of a burden, and that my already slow-reading-eyeballs will suddenly pick up a much faster pace.
Either way, to expect myself to read 100 books this year and somehow ace my exams simultaneously is over-ambitious (to say the very least), and since it’s only been 3 days… I’m changing it before me changing it in 6 months time becomes cheating. Or something.
So I’ve halved the goal to 50. Last year it was 70. Because the thing is, after my exams I do have a free summer, but I have many goals I want to get done then as well, and then in September my workload will increase.
Before you wonder what kind of ridiculous curriculum I follow, it’s the British one. I’m sure no one is particularly surprised. ANYWAYS, enough ranting about work because I’m sure I’m not the only homo sapien who has to deal with it, I’m sure at least one of you readers can relate.
But I knew I needed to make a post to explain my appalling behaviour, so here it is. I would say I’m sorry (to myself) but I really am not. If you think about it, I’d rather complete my goal in the summer with a few more months of 2019 to go than frantically be reading loads of books in December, thus disrupting my workload (because I would never forgive an undefeated challenge).
So there is me trying to justify my actions and totally failing. Tell me you can relate!