I was going through stuff that's piled up in various corners of my place the other day, deciding what I need/want to keep and what I can part with. As I was doing so, I came across a list of goals I had made for myself in 2004. Hello, flashback to me from twelve years ago. There are 28 goals written down on this piece of paper. As I read through them, truly not remembering ever having written them down, at first I was struck by how little has changed in my life and in what I want. But then.
I started seeing some of these goals that I've accomplished. To learn Italian; to see Wicked and Avenue Q. To go to Hawk Mountain. To take a hot air balloon ride. To go to Italy and Iceland. Huh. Out of the 28 goals, I have accomplished all or part of nine of them. Not tons; but almost half. Sort of. If we round up. Okay, so it's like a third of them. Still. STILL!
I have accomplished, consciously or otherwise, a third of the goals I had set for myself twelve years ago. Damn. Go me! Sure, that leaves two-thirds that I still haven't accomplished, but so what? Let's look at what I have done.