It's a new year, yet I remain the same old me.

You can't shed your identity simply because the calendar year changes. These arbitrary numbers have no real connection to your life.

What truly impacts your life? Your choices and actions.

So, regardless of the year, I'd remain the same miserable person unless I choose to change my actions.

That's why I've stopped focusing on New Year's resolutions and started embracing New Year's assessments.

Rather than setting goals and hoping the New Year hype will carry me toward them, I'm reflecting on the actions I should leave behind and considering how to adopt new ones throughout the year.

What do I need to change, and how can I make those changes?

First, I need to let go of my dopamine-driven yet unrewarding activities. This year, I'm focusing on lowering my dopamine threshold and relearning how to find contentment simply by observing my surroundings.

Second, I need to abandon my disorganized routines. While I understand that I can't control every detail of my day, I can at least choose how to spend my personal time. I plan to create "action pools"—lists of at least five activities to choose from at any given moment. I'll select the one that resonates with me at the time and follow the corresponding routine.

Finally, I need to set aside my carefree approach to finances and start focusing seriously on saving and generating income.

 I'm sure I'll still be mostly the same me by the end of the year, but hopefully with more subtance as a person and more meaningful changes in my life. 

When I wake up, one of my favorite things to do is open the blinds that completely block out the light and watch the breeze gently caress the trees outside my window, fully embracing the new day’s light. 

I also have a little ritual: each time I gaze outside, I search for a squirrel. I used to spot one or two quite easily, as if they were waiting for me to discover them. They would leap from tree to tree, as if urging me to join in their play..

Nowadays, I can’t find any squirrels anymore, and I feel like a youthful part of my day is also gone. 

...

Yet, I never stop looking for them.

...

It’s raining hard right now. The rainy season is always tough for me. I often have sleepless nights because of the sound of the rain. It’s difficult to relax and fall into a deep sleep when the rain forcefully crashes against the roof.

However, I often have many sleepless nights even when it isn’t raining. Instead of the sound of rain, it’s the noise of my restless mind screaming what I should be thinking, rather than allowing me to shut it off and fall asleep.

Sometimes, the thoughts my mind keeps saying are helpful, sparking creativity and productivity. But often, they just churn over the same things endlessly, like an unwelcome chant that desperately demands I remember every word and every feeling attached to it.

With rain, I know I have no control—I can only wait it out or try to block out the sound. But with my own mind, I feel like I should be able to control it, yet somehow, I just can’t.

My restless mind can go on for hours unless I do something about it. So, I invented stories to calm my mind. Sometimes, I focus on my breathing. But more often than not, I simply let my thoughts run their course, surrendering to their relentless. 

I just let my mind go off the rails until it crashes and burns, then soothe myself with the afterthought ashes. It’s certainly not a healthy way to fall asleep, but it is what it is.

In the morning, however, I like the sound of rain. What sometimes makes me restless can become something I welcome at other times. Strange, isn’t it?

The natural, steady rhythm of rain makes me feel grounded and surprisingly calm. The anticipation of it stopping gives me something to look forward to. And the fresh smell afterward makes me feel refreshed, grateful, and alive.

It’s the same, but not quite so, with my restless mind. I love thinking during the day. I enjoy the hum and rhythm of my thoughts. They become melodies that play continuously throughout the day.

I let them hit all the high and low notes as they wish, embracing whatever they urge me to hear. I love them so much that I crave more and feel uneasy during the long silences when nothing emerges.

The anticipation of great ideas raining down on me makes me feel even more restless than the urge to quiet my mind when I try to sleep.

I keep waiting and hoping my thoughts never stop flowing, because the afterthought is never as great as the active train of thought. That’s when I feel most human—while thinking.

It’s strange and fascinating how I pray for my mind to stop at night, yet pray for it never to stop during the day.

Perhaps, this is why people say there’s a time and place for everything, and why being in the right place at the right time, with the right mindset, feels so precious.