Catchy alliteration aside, the following are not resolutions, just a brief, random collection of good ideas that I’ve been meaning to try out. There’s a distinct difference . . . which I’ll explain as soon as a convincing argument comes to mind. Regardless, now seemed like a good time to put ’em out there so that my friends and family can call me on them a month from now.
If the only benefits I gain from this experiment are the opportunities to provide the joy of righteous nagging within the hearts of my loved ones and to hone my creative excuse-spinning skills, then I’ll consider it blogspace well spent.
Eat or pack breakfast every day.
I’m usually the absolute opposite of hungry until mid-morning, when I’m suddenly ravenous and thinking seriously about eating pencils to keep my stomach from answering patron questions.
That’s tough on my stomach, the patrons, and the morale of the library’s pencil population.
It’s one of my core beliefs that writing utensils should not have to live in fear, so I’ll be packing a little something to eat at my desk during break. Possibly even something nutritional—the morale of the break room vending machine is not my responsibility*—but I wouldn’t want to sabotage myself by making too many rules right away.
doughnuts steps . . .
Use this, until the weather stops with the homicidal glee, already:
I don’t actually own it, yet, but it will arrive early next week, which gives me time to take down the Christmas tree to make room.
This isn’t a new fitness goal—that’s resolution territory—but more a matter of survival; I break out in chilblains just thinking about taking a walk outside right now, and it’s even too cold in the garage to use the treadmill.
For the sake of my sanity, I need an exercise method that’s the next best thing to sitting on my rear end in a warm house, reading. Something easy on the knees and on sale, with free shipping.
I already have a little plexiglass book rest thing to hook over the monitor—the treadmill is hibernating and won’t miss it until Spring—and I’ll bet, with practice, I could manage to
surf the net write edit while I’m pedaling away.
Stop laughing. It could happen.
Kick Pigeons out of the nest again.
I confess—the last few months of last year, I took a querycation.
It was time to take a step back and reassess what I was doing and how I was doing it, and to fix what wasn’t working.
Thanks to a generous, brilliant, and patient friend, I now have a solid query letter and a bit more confidence. I’ve already worked up another list of agents that could be a good, mutual fit.
And as most of those agents will be reopening their inboxes to new queries next week, which is when I’m taking a week’s vacation from the library, the timing couldn’t be better to launch Pigeons back into the process.
Drink more tea.
About a year ago, I succumbed to the caffeinated seduction of coffee, and it’s been a blast, especially in the mornings, when a blast is most appreciated.
But I miss tea. I miss the flavors, the ritual . . . and the relative ease of entering my sleep cycle.
Plus it’s that time of year when the combination of wind chill, heating systems, and static electricity starts giving me the Winter itchies, and a little more hydration couldn’t hurt.
Does anyone around here know Japanese? I’d like to know if these are real kanji or kana symbols, and if so, what they mean. I have a sneaking suspicion the ones on the tea cups say, “tea cup,” but I can’t tell.
A Low Daily Minimum Word Count
This is the closest to a real resolution I have, which traditionally means I’m dooming myself to weight-loss goal levels of guilt-ridden failure.
But I’m happier with a daily goal, not to mention more productive—as long as the goal fits reasonably into my schedule.
It’s no secret around here that I have the occasional problem with identifying reasonable schedules . . . So this is also going to be an exercise in curbing my All or Nothing tendencies.
I’ve heard arguments for higher word goals being better daily habits, but there’s a sustainability issue for me—most of it child-based—and I’ve learned this year that lower goals tend to prime my pump until the bucket overflows anyway.
And, yeah, I should probably add something about eliminating (HEY-o) unseemly metaphors, but we all know the odds of my success.
Baby steps, people. Baby steps.
Okay—if I made a real resolution, it would look like this:
Anyone else resolute in their non-resolutions?
Care to share?
*I did not just feel a pang of guilt over that. I’m . . . digesting. Yeah.