The new year is upon us. It's 2010. I prefer to say "twenty-ten", as opposed to "two thousand ten". I don't know, it just seems more appropriate, or more hip for the second millenium. I have not made any New Year's resolutions, yet. I've run through a few ideas in my head, but nothing feels quite right so I've decided to hold off until something strikes me as "the one". I'm done with the predictable, banal resolutions. Who wants to quit drinking, or smoking this year? Or start eating more fruit? Not me. Screw it, enjoy your life as long as you're not irresponsible about your vices, is my motto. I was chatting on the phone with a friend last night and she told me her NYR (let's just shorten that, shall we?) for this year is to always make sure that there is ample toilet paper with reach before plunking herself down on the throne. I have to admit, I liked it. Kind of original. Not reaching for any great new heights. I would say it's an attainable goal. After we had been on the phone for over an hour, I told my friend that my ear was numb and I had to hang up. Surprised, she said, "Don't you switch ears during a conversation?". Well, no I don't. I'm a left ear/left hand phone person. She encouraged me to switch to my right ear, then she suggested that could be my NYR, to train myself to talk on the phone, using my right ear/hand. It was intriguing, but I'm not sure I'm ready for such a task. I already talk on the phone way too much. Training myself to use my other ear would make it possible for me talk double the amount of time that I already do. I thanked her for the worthy suggestion, but politely told her that would not be my 2010 NYR.
I did make a wish on New Year's eve. Every year at my in-law's NYE party, the guests are encouraged to write their NYE wishes down on a piece of tissue paper and at the stroke of midnight, we light them on fire, drop them in our glass of champagne and swallow the charred remnants. Gross, right? I do it every year, but it's truly disgusting. Feeling that charred wad of tissue glomp it's way down my throat isn't exactly how I want to start the new year. But I do it, because I am somewhat superstitious and I don't want to break the family tradition. I wrote a novel this year on my shred of tissue paper. There is no rule about how many wishes one can write down, so I took full advantage of my miniscule writing space and in teeny-tiny script I wrote down as many wishes as I could come up with at that moment. I was thinking safety in numbers. One of them is bound to come close to coming true. Sort of like buying mass amounts of scratch off tickets. You have to figure you'll at least win a dollar, or maybe even five dollars, so then you can buy more and up your big payoff chances.
I know a NYR will come to me at some point. I'm just going to stay relaxed and go with the flow. This is a new concept for my uptight Virgo personality. Perhaps, that should be my resolution? To worry less and just ride the tide? Well, I can certainly give that a shot. Worrying has never gotten me anywhere, as Jonathan likes to point out to me when I'm going over our finances, clutching hunks of my hair in my hands, gnashing my teeth, with spittle forming at the corners of my mouth. That advice of his typically provokes some sort of obscenity being hurled in his general direction, usually delievered at a volume high enough to break glass. So, there you go. My NYR will be to relax and not worry about life this year. It will help my business and my personal life. Well, I'll give it a six month trial period anyway. In June, I shall have a reassessment. What if worrying doesn't get you anywhere, but not worrying gets you nowhere? I think this NYR is going to take some work. I guess that is the point of a NYR, after all. Wish me luck.