I only made a few resolutions last year, but one of them was to read 100 books (which maybe ought to count for more than one). By the end of the year I had read almost forty books, which, by the numbers, sounds like failure. What I liked about last year was that I spent a lot of time reading. It didn't feel like failure. Even so, I'm making the same resolution again to see how much better I can do.
What I like about New Year's resolutions (besides getting to make a list, which I dearly love) is the process that goes with it: thinking about all that unknown future time in which you might do amazing, wonderful things. Resolutions are glimpses into a possible future - nearly as exciting as time travel! You're imagining yourself one year older, by then having become a self who has done All The Exciting Things On The List. I started compiling my resolutions back before Christmas; I was that eager to plan out my List Of Exciting Things.
Not that things like reading a lot of books sounds exciting to anyone besides me. Lots of people to whom I've mentioned this goal have skipped enthusiasm and gone directly into questions about what "counts" (could I just read one hundred picture books? they ask curiously). They've gone off the rails and sidestepped the point entirely. Nothing will happen if I don't meet my goal; I'm really just attempting to beat myself at my own game. I make the rules and play both sides of the board.
For 2015 I made fifteen resolutions, which in itself feels pretty stretchy. The list reads like a series of ultimatums. (I'm a harsh taskmaster.) It's like being handed the syllabus on the first day of class: "You will write a ten-page paper on the classic American novel of your choice," while you think, Will I, now? I looked over plenty of syllabuses with a sinking feeling, but there was always the possibility that in a few months I would have done all the assignments, currently uncompleted, with such unrivaled panache that all future syllabuses would bear my name.
All the naive ambition that went into writing my fifteen resolutions is what I want to keep with me throughout the year. The list is a time capsule from a time when I thought, This is possible! I may end up laughing at my past self who thought I could tackle fifteen separate resolutions (when just one of them was to read 100 books) - but I may emerge triumphant! Only time will tell!
For 2015 I made fifteen resolutions, which in itself feels pretty stretchy. The list reads like a series of ultimatums. (I'm a harsh taskmaster.) It's like being handed the syllabus on the first day of class: "You will write a ten-page paper on the classic American novel of your choice," while you think, Will I, now? I looked over plenty of syllabuses with a sinking feeling, but there was always the possibility that in a few months I would have done all the assignments, currently uncompleted, with such unrivaled panache that all future syllabuses would bear my name.
All the naive ambition that went into writing my fifteen resolutions is what I want to keep with me throughout the year. The list is a time capsule from a time when I thought, This is possible! I may end up laughing at my past self who thought I could tackle fifteen separate resolutions (when just one of them was to read 100 books) - but I may emerge triumphant! Only time will tell!
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