Is that me, making a New Year’s resolution? Check me for fever, quick!
I have always been firmly of the non-resolutin’ kind. I secretly scoffed at people who made resolutions and posted them to their fridges and, depending on how evil I felt towards the innocuously resolving person, I’d remember their resolutions so I could secretly gloat at my wisdom in not making resolutions if they failed at theirs. What can I say? Holidays and scheduled merrymaking occasions bring out the misanthrope in me.
More than my perverse desire to flout calendrically-dictated conventions, however, the real reason behind my resolution phobia is my fear of setting goals and not accomplishing them. Make a list of Laura Improvement, let everyone know it, fail miserably, hate myself for the remaining months of the year, and provide fodder for other secret misanthropes to gloat at my shortcomings? No ta, I’ll pass and wait to improve myself until April. And so it went for years and years.
This year, however, I was shocked to find that not only did I no longer want to cackle whenever the dreaded three words “New Year’s resolutions” were uttered in my presence by well-meaning and kinder-than-me folk, I actually WANTED to set some for myself! I came to this realization in mid-December and, like everything else I ever do, I mulled it over slowly for the next few weeks. I mean, at the very least I have a Grinchy reputation to keep up, and this new development does not fit my carefully cultivated image.
So ponder I did, and I started to get my head around the kinds of things I could resolve to do. I wish I could be as cool about it as Little A, whose New Year’s resolution is to chew more slowly (I kid you not, and I kindly ask her to confirm in the comments, should she be reading, that this is so). But I wanted to do a bit more and aim higher, bolstered by the kind of teary-eyed and silly self-confidence that comes from having set some goals (completely informally and without telling anyone, mind you) this year and reached them.
I wanted my resolutions to cut across all levels of importance and to carry through short, medium, and longer-term goals. I wanted to be able to accomplish some of them on a daily or weekly basis (if only so I could ego-boost regularly) and I wanted to have some that would make me get sappy and emotional once I hit them.
So, lengthy preamble over, I unveil my first ever New Year’s resolutions, as finally penned in my bird notebook at JFK airport on Monday night:
- Put less sugar in my oatmeal. I gasp at the three teaspoons it takes sometimes to make me happy in the mornings. I need to get over it.
- Train for a 10K in the fall–should no 10K races be on in Trinidad, I will train as if there was one on or by November 15.
- Manage my time better–but without giving myself stress over it, as I always have.
- Eat more crudites as snacks. Carrots WILL be my friends.
- Organize my sewing stuff so the sewing area doesn’t look like it’s been freshly hit by a tornado.
- Be able to swim fifty laps in an hour by the end of the year. I’m currently at 30 laps in about 50 minutes (or 1:15-1:20 per lap), so I’m aiming high on this one, as it’s a lap in a minute and a second or two.
- Write one page a day of prospective material at least three times a week (more at less busy times). Mamalicious knows what I mean by this.
- Make one new recipe a week (I should aim for, say, six new recipes a month, but hitting one a week will do).
- Pitch some writing ideas (either for completed or tailor-written pieces) for publication in the great big Out There.
- Keep a clean, debris-and-rotting-fruit-free handbag at all times.
- Act like I’m New Stress-Free Laura on Christmas Break at least 75% of the time. The world did not end when I did not cook/clean/etc. exactly when I wanted to over the break. Lesson learned–so I plan on digging the laissez-faire this year.
I think I can handle these, don’t you? I deliberately set eleven because ten is a pretty standard number of resolutions, and even though I’ve succumbed to resolution-making, I’m still an anarchist at heart. The Chosen Eleven will be printed on nice paper and stuck onto the fridge and an original copy of the scrawly list will be kept in my wallet once I use up the bird notebook. The challenge is on…
The Last Holiday Mop-Up (I Think…)
In the madness of Christmas-doing, Christmas trying-to-post and Christmas failure-to-do-so-regularly, I completely overlooked giving my pre-Christmas trip to Toronto to visit my friend and fellow shortie Dr. Teeny with Mr. Man its bloggy due. Dr. Teeny was Mr. Man’s fellow PhD student/sufferer (and a hangout-loving, good-temper-having, integral part of my Witch Circle) back in the Coventry days and no visit to the northern climes is complete without an old-school meetup.
We had a blast eating, drinking, watching the latest Almodovar (I heart big cities with art cinemas, le sigh) and, most of all, gabbing and gossiping about everyone we know and love/hate.
Best done in a few priceless pics:
And now, back to our normal programming!
The day-to-day business of wearing:
Edited to note: Little A has indeed replied below, and I hold her to both resolutions–next year’s Freezer 5K better have THREE Weapons of Ass Destruction on the road!