It's kind of depressing, really. And not just because of the number of people whose resolutions center around hating their bodies. All these grand plans, and most of them end up petering out by mid-February. I think that's why I'm avoiding making resolutions these days; they're so artificial, tied to a changeover of calendars that doesn't have any intrinsic meaning. I mean, there's stuff I'm planning to do this year -- another half-Ironman, finishing the novel I've been poking at, submitting a short story or two once we have the new house so I have a long-term return address -- but those aren't resolutions, they're plans. Maybe goals. Continuations of things I'm already doing. Why wait until January to start something new?
So there's my resolution for 2011: not to make resolutions. Just to do what I want to do, and what I need to do to accomplish my goals.
Oh, and to journal more.