New Year resolutions are one of life’s great collective failures. Year after year Americans promise for the span of three-hundred and sixty-five days – or for this year three-hundred and sixty-six if you wish to be accurate and anal – to be kinder, more organized, more health conscious, or any other well-meaning intentions only to fall off the wagon after a few weeks. Ashamed and unhinged these poor souls then return to a life of excess debauchery: stealing fatty pies from the homeless and then losing the pie due to a mislabeled post-it. Others fearing failure like me mold their resolutions like an artist would a nebulous piece of modern art. With the proper wording and ambiguity, all resolutions fall well within their mark:

“I promise to move more often.”

“Breathing. Yeah, I got to do more of that.”

Others find no reason to stop doing whatever it is they normally do and so vow to do just that all year long:

“I promise to drink more, sleep less, and party until God strikes me down in my folly. *hic* Cheers.”

As for myself this year, I actually decided to adopt a resolution that matters or if that fails, at least can be measured. Therefore, I resolve to improve my writing and dedicate myself to penning at least three blogs a week. Initially I thought to dedicate myself to seven blogs a week but decided to scale back, figuring that I will not be as tempted to type up a few lines of inconsequential tripe but perhaps something more substantial. This effort however can only work if my readers (if any) participate; although I cannot promise high literature or even mediocre literature, I can promise some meager morsel of entertainment now and then.