Pronouncements about the end of the year come too quickly. There are still sixteen days left of 2007, and as the past fortnight taught me, a lot can happen in two weeks. It’s too soon for definitive statements about 2007, but I’m ready for some unambiguous ambitions for 2008.
A friend once asked me why people wait until the holidays to be nice and resolve to change their lives. A whale oil miracle doesn’t do much for my love of humanity, but New Year’s is just a good excuse to reassess and make goals.
My first resolution is start writing a book. About five months ago, I decided I’d rather be unpublished than never try. I gave myself J1 as a start date and told a lot of people about my plan. My hope is that I’ll feel socially obliged to carry it out.
My second resolution is to stop relying on email and text messages to socialize. I’m an adult, and if I can’t have a two minute conversation about meeting up at a bar, then I don’t deserve a drink.
There you have it: My dreams for 2008 are to become a failed novelist and to have a higher cellphone bill, or a lower one—I’m not too clear on how Verizon works.
As many girls from my high school yearbook put it, “Shoot for the moon. Even if you fail, you’ll be among the stars.” That doesn’t make sense astronomically, but the point is, it’s better to try and fuck up than to just be a fuck up. Feel free to think about that one later.