Dots per square inch.
I'm trying something different with the word this year. Instead of using resolution as an expression of hard-charging intent, as is traditionally done, I'm using it in one of its more contemporary usages, as a description of image quality. These are not New Year's resolutions as expression of what I will I will I will change, they are expressions of what I currently see in myself, with crystal clarity, at the dawn of 2011.
The experiment is meant to acknowledge and defuse my overpowering fear of failure by removing failure from the equation. A statement of intent unmet by adequate action is failure, and leads to a number of questions about the failure, all of which inevitably lead to the cruelest of self-assessment questions: "What is wrong with you?" (This question, of course, is the basis of the New Year's tradition in the first place.)
The only question I will need to answer at the end of next year is the following: Are these statements still true?
1. I am carrying a bit more weight than is optimal for my age and height, and my cholesterol is a little high.
And many of us will say that, many of us have said that already and are saying it right now. Body image resolutions are the elevator music of self-improvement; you've heard the song before, hated it in its original form and can't believe it's somehow gotten worse as you're hearing it now.
2. I don't cook nearly enough.
Reference aforementioned fear of failure. Every home-cooked meal is a work of art and I get anxiety even over creating the art I know I'm capable of. But I didn't get capable of that art by remaining both anxious and paralyzed about it.
3. There are several theatre companies in this city whose work I have yet to experience.
I'll still be going to the theaters where I've come to expect quality work, but it's about time I made a point of checking out those other companies about whose work, for years, I've been hearing great things without once attending one of their productions. Red Twist, Theo Ubique, Oracle, Teatro Luna, Mammals, others...your names are working their way to my foreground.
4. This blog has been largely inactive for no good reason.
I currently post three entries a week for a company that provides a professional wine storage service but barely manage that for my own blog in a six-month span. I keep this space open but don't fill it with anything and none of the reasons I have for that have been satisfactory to me.
5. I don't often tell the people I love how much I love them.
Or maybe I do without those words, exactly. Or maybe they know anyway. Status quo isn't actually relevant for this one; there's no reason for me not to do it more often.
I spent the first few days of 2011 belting out rock songs, processing paperwork, watching movies, doing laundry, playing games about time travel, and getting a single 14-hour stretch of sleep. In Arkansas, thousands of birds fell from the sky, stone dead, for unknown reasons. I don't believe in omens and I don't believe that the first moments of any event, including a year of one's life, determine the shape all of the moments thereafter.
Thank you, thank you. I'll be here all year.
The experiment is meant to acknowledge and defuse my overpowering fear of failure by removing failure from the equation. A statement of intent unmet by adequate action is failure, and leads to a number of questions about the failure, all of which inevitably lead to the cruelest of self-assessment questions: "What is wrong with you?" (This question, of course, is the basis of the New Year's tradition in the first place.)
The only question I will need to answer at the end of next year is the following: Are these statements still true?
1. I am carrying a bit more weight than is optimal for my age and height, and my cholesterol is a little high.
And many of us will say that, many of us have said that already and are saying it right now. Body image resolutions are the elevator music of self-improvement; you've heard the song before, hated it in its original form and can't believe it's somehow gotten worse as you're hearing it now.
2. I don't cook nearly enough.
Reference aforementioned fear of failure. Every home-cooked meal is a work of art and I get anxiety even over creating the art I know I'm capable of. But I didn't get capable of that art by remaining both anxious and paralyzed about it.
3. There are several theatre companies in this city whose work I have yet to experience.
I'll still be going to the theaters where I've come to expect quality work, but it's about time I made a point of checking out those other companies about whose work, for years, I've been hearing great things without once attending one of their productions. Red Twist, Theo Ubique, Oracle, Teatro Luna, Mammals, others...your names are working their way to my foreground.
4. This blog has been largely inactive for no good reason.
I currently post three entries a week for a company that provides a professional wine storage service but barely manage that for my own blog in a six-month span. I keep this space open but don't fill it with anything and none of the reasons I have for that have been satisfactory to me.
5. I don't often tell the people I love how much I love them.
Or maybe I do without those words, exactly. Or maybe they know anyway. Status quo isn't actually relevant for this one; there's no reason for me not to do it more often.
I spent the first few days of 2011 belting out rock songs, processing paperwork, watching movies, doing laundry, playing games about time travel, and getting a single 14-hour stretch of sleep. In Arkansas, thousands of birds fell from the sky, stone dead, for unknown reasons. I don't believe in omens and I don't believe that the first moments of any event, including a year of one's life, determine the shape all of the moments thereafter.
Thank you, thank you. I'll be here all year.