Ms. Monkey-Gurl is not known to make resolutions, at the commencement of the new year or any other time. Well, there was the time in 1996 when she not only felt compelled to make bona fide resolutions but also decided that: (a) they be written down, (b) there be three sets of three resolutions (career, family life, personal growth, if memory serves), and (c) her luv monkey at the time do likewise.
It was a very solemn affair with small scraps of paper folded up and safely stored for posterity. For reasons that seem perfectly obvious, that was the first and last time Ms. Monkey-Gurl formalized any aspirations for the future. What was my point again? Oh, right. Resolutions.
Yeah, this isn’t so much a resolution as the ravings of a CMG, home sick and weary of the offerings of The History Channel International. I have the deliriously optimistic idea that while on the mend I can bloat, er … populate my blog with all sorts of scintillating posts and install tons of cool features. I shan’t formalize this idea by making any declarative statements in black and white, as that is the kiss of death for my schemes.
[...] It only seems like yesterday that I was fending off resolutions and dying of mono. Oh, Time’s wingèd chariot and all that. This year, though, I have decided to do the resolution thing again. I mean, what’s so bad, really, about an arbitrary goal that owes its existence largely to an arbitrary holiday? Arbitrary and meaningful don’t have to be mutually exclusive. No, they do not. [...]