I try to avoid "self-improvement" resolutions. They just make me feel crummy. Who wants to lose weight or save money? Too much pressure. Making the resolution draws attention to the problem. Then, when I fail to fix myself, I feel like I suck even more. Why bother? I prefer denial and I'm happier (and curvier) for it.
Over the years, I've made some obscure resolutions. I've resolved to start a compost, buy more local food, learn to knit, write a novel...all of which I've done. Because they're not really about me. It's easier to commit to something that isn't about me...and then, in the end, it is about me. Also, these things are all easier than running a marathon.
As I write this, Findley purrs in my lap. I ask him what I should do and he ignores me.
Here goes:
1) Get a clothesline and a water barrel.
2) Read more. Maybe Findley wasn't ignoring me. He was guiding my attention towards my books with his thoughtful gaze.
3) Find a sport Kieran and I can do together...like rock climbing...or something...
4) Write a novel. Again.
5) Laugh more.
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