I can’t post today without mentioning resolutions for 2005, but it seems to me when I resolve to do anything that sits farther up Maslow’s Hierarchy of Needs than the bottom two rungs, I’m pretty much doomed to fail. So I’ll keep it simple. And to make these resolutions ever more softball, I’m only going to jot down the things I strive not to do over the coming year.
I will not neglect this site like the hamster I owned when I was thirteen. After we got a dog I sort of forgot I even had a hamster, and when it inevitably died it took me a good four or five days to realize. Oh there was a smell, but we just figured the dog had tucked a poo in some dark corner of my room.
I will not have that one last drink after getting home from a party, no matter how good an idea it seems at the time.
I will not finish reading books that I hate. I have this awful habit of forcing myself to finish every book that I start, and now that I’m on the cusp of thirty it occurs to me that life’s too short. With the time I lost reading The Polished Hoe, The Collected Stories of O. Henry, and The Last Crossing, I could have taught myself how to speak Mandarin--or at least learned my new cell phone number.
I will not stop buying new music. This phenomenon has already begun and it scares the bejezus out of me. My parents haven't learned the names or the words to any song released after 1972, and lately I've found myself stuck somewhere in the mid-to-late nineties. "New" songs I've discovered lately include Skee-lo's 'I Wish,' and Cake's 'Sheep Go to Heaven, Goats Go to Hell' (95 and 98, respectively.) That's it--I'm going straight to Amazon right now to order bestsellers at random. Who's this Kalan Porter dude? He looks pretty cool, doesn't he? Kalan Porter will save my from myself.
I will not neglect this site like the hamster I owned when I was thirteen. After we got a dog I sort of forgot I even had a hamster, and when it inevitably died it took me a good four or five days to realize. Oh there was a smell, but we just figured the dog had tucked a poo in some dark corner of my room.
I will not have that one last drink after getting home from a party, no matter how good an idea it seems at the time.
I will not finish reading books that I hate. I have this awful habit of forcing myself to finish every book that I start, and now that I’m on the cusp of thirty it occurs to me that life’s too short. With the time I lost reading The Polished Hoe, The Collected Stories of O. Henry, and The Last Crossing, I could have taught myself how to speak Mandarin--or at least learned my new cell phone number.
I will not stop buying new music. This phenomenon has already begun and it scares the bejezus out of me. My parents haven't learned the names or the words to any song released after 1972, and lately I've found myself stuck somewhere in the mid-to-late nineties. "New" songs I've discovered lately include Skee-lo's 'I Wish,' and Cake's 'Sheep Go to Heaven, Goats Go to Hell' (95 and 98, respectively.) That's it--I'm going straight to Amazon right now to order bestsellers at random. Who's this Kalan Porter dude? He looks pretty cool, doesn't he? Kalan Porter will save my from myself.
Comments
Hopefully Kalan Porter will help you with your English problem, Mr. Wrong Cellphone Number....
Angry Toronto Resident
What am I, a Figueiredo?
Someone loved by a Figueiredo