On New Years Resolutions

Last year I went a little overboard, creating ten highly-detailed intentions initiated by a complicated esoteric ritual, followed by a round of banging pots and pans with a wooden spatula throughout my dank Boulder apartment (don't ask). Given that 2005 was one of my most productive years to date, and that I accomplished about 20% of what I resolved on Jan 1 2005, I'd say I got a little overzealous with my resolutions. The thing is, NYE is kind of an arbitrary marker to place in the middle of these unruly lives which spill over and around bank holidays like so much real water crashing through the careful planning on a model river. Phase A and Phase B do not sharply dilineate themselves around the borderland of champagne corks and Dick Clark banality.

Thus, I'll keep it a tad simpler this year. I resolve, based on the current patterns of activity and desire accompanying my waking life, to include the following in my activities for the coming Gregorian annum:

-figure out what the hell I'm going to use this blog for, and look into the possibilty (for about 5 minutes) of making money from it
-to write more and plan/worry less
-to get some recordings of the Salamone Brothers made to give to friends
-to sharpen a few written pieces up for, as a mentor of mine puts it, "collecting rejections"
-to play piano a bit better
-to get back into the whole health / hey I have a body maybe I should take care of it thing (to a sane degree at least)

... among other things. If you don't see me doing these things in say, 10 months, feel free to drop me a line.

Postscript:
Oh yeah, this recent quote by Syracuse professor and short story writer George Saunders is probably worth considering along the way as well (from this interview):

I think we can make this desire to be compassionate and tender [as writers] more practical. It seems to me that if a writer 1) pays attention and 2) tries to keep the mind free of preconceptions about what he wants the story to be about (or wants a character to do, etc.) -- then he will automatically move towards a story which is richer, more full-hearted, etc. In this model, compassion just means keeping yourself open to the possibilities of the story, which, in turn, means keeping oneself open to the possibilities of the world -- what's actually there, rather than what you want to be there.