I started the New Year off with a fever. Despite my best efforts to keep the cold at bay, no amount of vitamin C could bolster my weakened immune system into a fight-worthy army. Regardless, my work doesn’t allow for sick days and so here I am, prepared to stand duty for another two days.
Overall, my job isn’t difficult. Anyone with even the slightest amount of fortitude could do it. I raise flags, wash dishes, scrub boats, and say “roger” every time someone with fancy patches gives me an order.
And yet, I can’t help being frustrated. I come to work each day only to discover that I’m cleaning up after someone else’s mess. Just last week, when my duty section returned from holiday, I was mildly devastated to learn that none of my fellow cabin boys had so much as even thought of polishing the bells. Two solid weeks’ worth of rain, sea salt, and grime was beginning to turn them a sickly shade of green. This was only the beginning of a long list of discrepancies.
I spent hours trying to put the station back together while my team slept and played video games in their duty rooms. I finished just in time to assume the next radio guard, where I spent literal hours trying to think of a way to effectively address the other non-rates about their severe lack of professional responsibility. In the end, I realized it was pointless. Afterwards, I preformed our station’s color ceremony, washed more pots and pans, and updated the logbooks for the previous section. For a station that is so quick to remind me of how expendable I am, they seem to depend on me an awful lot.
Despite my not-so-great start, I’m determined to make 2015 an amazing year. 2014 put a serious damper on my motivational flame. Between the endless stream of international tragedies, personal hurdles, and discovering my seething hatred for the Florida Keys, I was more than ready to see 2014 go.
Of course, my year wasn’t all bad. My boyfriend finally moved in with me, and I learned some really important life lessons. But most importantly, I finally finished my first book.
For me, writing has always been more than just a hobby. I wake up thinking about it, and I’m still thinking of it when I go to bed. Up until college, I told everyone that I wanted to be an author. Then, during my first year at university, someone convinced me that I was committing financial suicide if I pursued an English degree. Like a moron, I followed their advice. Now I’m just as broke and working a job I can’t stand in an area of the country that needs to hurry up and erode into the sea.
Even though I never pursued a writing degree, I practiced the trade for years. I’ve rewritten my first book almost three times over. But this time, I think I’m finally finished.
New Year’s resolutions always seemed foolish to me. If you’re going to make a change, it seems silly to wait until a very specific day to start that journey. Still, I felt the need to make a promise to myself this New Year’s Eve. This year will be the year I seriously pursue publication. I know what I have is worth publishing. After all, if someone can publish a Twilight fanfiction glorifying an abusive relationship and inaccurately depicting BDSM, then why not my story?
God, I hope I’m right.