With the new year launched and not yet out of warranty it's just the sort of week to review my resolutions and catalogue exactly how, why, when, where, whom, and whether they all fell catastrophically apart. Taking them in cereal order (many of them enjoy Golden Grahams):
1. Eat less, unless that should be ``eat fewer''. I've always been a great one for putting food-based items into my mouth, and I now carry around enough weight to make my appearance in sweatpants distinctly uncomfortable. Worse, I don't demand a strong enough provenance for things I mean to eat, as evidenced by my eating the rubbery waffles handed out outside a microbus offering a look into the life of runner Steve ``Pre'' Prefontaine. Probably there are few people poised outside microbus museums to Steve ``Pre'' Prefontaine with the intent of doing mischief through distributing rubbery waffles, but if there were one, I would have fallen into the scheme. The resolution fails because I need the help of outside agencies. I need the world to not have so much of itself made of Cheez-Its.
2. Run ten miles. My total lifetime accumulated running comes to perhaps four and a half miles, if you include times I've fallen down stairs as ``running''. I earned the modest awe of my high school gym teachers for being a rare person who could walk a mile faster than run it, and they eventually gave in to my walking so there was any chance of gym class being done that quarter. I will walk efficiently and this might fool me into supposing I could turn that into a run, but I should know better than that, and do. Maybe it would be worth changing this to ten nautical miles to sound more ambitious and gain the cachet of the word ``nautical''.
3. Stenning through the jerring klnosten without crumnwellts. A resolution formed and written down in those fanciful moments of half-dreaming semi-consciousness while waking up, and obviously unintelligible gibberish. Although it is possible I am keeping this resolution while not awake, I cannot in good faith claim to be living up to it through any knowledge of my own. I do miss the crumnwellts, however.
4. Stop making important notes in those fanciful moments of half-dreaming semi-consciousness while waking up. If there were any hope to this working I would not discover written on scraps of paper by my nightstand phrases like ``polka bear''. This could have been dismissed as completely useless and ignorable, but by putting it to use here it has suddenly become important that I do make such notes while in half-dreaming semi-conscious states.
5. To sleep eight hours daily. There'd be no trouble if it were ``a day'', since I can with just a few weeks' notice arrange things to get one day with that much, or ``enough'', sleep. It's daily that's the problem, because social pressure makes it awkward to sleep during time otherwise wasted in bulky, uninvolving activities like driving. Worse, sleep may be disrupted by urgent activity like the cats deciding to fight it out for the right to wrestle my foot into submission. I might be able to salvage this if I find a way to sleep in layers so each hour counts for several.
6. To be generally more organized. When this first looked hopeless it was easy to shift it to be generally less disorganized, passive but having a similar result, thanks to the well-known mathematical principle of weak solutions generally implying the existence of strong solutions for a well-formed problem. Nothing about me is well-formed, so it quickly became ``to be generally'', with the object lost underneath a pile of papers, some of them tax or car insurance forms, never to be seen again.
So that's the sorry state of things this far into the year. It's not an impressive performance, but at least I pared the last resolution down to ``to be'', which I've nearly got the hang of doing. Still I can't help thinking I'd be better off if I still had some crumnwellts.
Trivia: 1896 was the International Year of Clouds. Source: The Invention of Clouds: How an Amateur Meteorologist Forged the Language of the Skies, Richard Hamblyn.
Currently Reading: A Wonderful Welcome to Oz, L Frank Baum.