Monday, January 3, 2011


It's a new year, so now that we've all had our fill of soft and dreamy perfume ads, it's time to be inundated with commercials for gyms and weight loss plans. Side note: now that I have actually lost weight, I do take a little bit of pleasure in these ads. There's a radio one that asks, 'Are you 50 pounds or more overweight?' And 9 times out of 10, I'll mumble to myself in the car, 'Not anymore.'

But anyway, resolutions. Weird things. The stuff of fluffy filler articles (like the ones I've done for Examiner this week!), they seem to disappear after, maybe March. Maybe they fly north for the summer, I don't know. But what is a go-go talking point in January is rarely considered in July. Resolutions, like rules, seem made to be broken. Who really expects to fulfill their resolutions all 365 days of 2011? I don't. I guess I'm just making them in the hopes that I'll be able to keep a few at least some of the time, because it's better than not.

Some people go with one big resolution, but this year I'm compiling a list of smaller ones. Things like, 'Organizing my books on the bookshelf' and 'Knitting without Mom's help'. Things that aren't life-altering but are just good to try and accomplish. There is one, though, that I think qualifies as The Big One. The resolution that is tantamount to altering a core weakness of bad habit that you have cultivated and swear to address this year.

For me, my resolution is to put myself out there a little more. If you know me, you probably know that I'm the kind of person who enjoys ruts. Give me a schedule to follow for my entire life, and as long as it includes TV, I'll happily follow it. Unfortunately, that leads to me surviving more than living, especially socially. Living at home, it's far to easy to rely on my mother for company. Hey, she makes great company, but then, so would other people. And it's not natural that after the first flush of excitement, having plans to go somewhere can often leave me feeling afraid and wishing I could just stay on the couch and return to the comfort of that same TV.

So yeah. I'm not promising myself that I'm going to be a social butterfly that goes out for happy hour on her own and makes friends spontaneously without an ounce of self-consciousness. No, I'm not insane. I'm just talking about a concerted effort to silence the voice in my head that says, 'Just stay home,' and to consider doing little things to break up the monotony of work, write, sleep.

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