I like to make resolutions. One of the resolutions I have recently made was to not lie as much as I usually do. In other words, I genuinely, passionately dislike making resolutions. They never work. I’m more inclined to blame them than my lack of an attention span or capacity to give a monkey’s toss after a certain point in the process.
Still, we make them. Maybe it’s because we think that this year will be different, that something will click and everything wrong that took months to build up will somehow be righted because there’s a new calendar up on the wall. Not likely. I tell myself every year that I’m done with them. But I make them. I write them down, I study them, I commit them to memory. A day later I start to ignore the first one. A day after that the second one bites the dust… and so on and so on until… POOF! it’s February and I don’t have to feel guilty anymore.
So go ahead, make those resolutions… the world might be ending at the end of the week anyway…might as well go out feeling you’ve accomplished something. If the world doesn’t end, well… there’s always February.
