Around this time last year, I was on this pro-fate, anti-resolution kick. After listening to me prattle on for a couple of days, my housemate suggested that I read The Secret. Matty mentioned something about the Law of Attraction. I’m not sure what, exactly (and I still haven’t finished the book), but he went on to tell me that he’d made a list one year–simply written down things that he’d wanted to accomplish in the upcoming year–and forgotten all about it. When he went back to the list a year later, he’d accomplished almost everything on it. The good, old Law of Attraction. I think. I seem to remember him explaining that in expressing his desires in a concrete way, he gave them some kind of power. My interest (skepticism?) was piqued. So, I wrote my own list of non-resolutions for 2012 somewhere in the middle of my leatherbound notebook, folded down the page’s corner, moved on.
A few days ago, I remembered the non-resolutions and confessed to my friend, Megan, that although I couldn’t remember exactly what I’d written down, I was pretty sure I hadn’t accomplished any of it. Shrug.
Alas, mere moments ago, I dug the notebook out of my over-stuffed bookcase and unearthed “My 2012 List (of Goals).” There are eight items on it. Some of them are embarrassing, so I will not be divulging them here. But as it turns out, I did every single one of them. Sometimes in the strictly literal sense, and occasionally, on a very temporary basis: I visited Yudi in Bondi; not Indo. I got a new board from California; not the board I’d intended to retrieve. I guess, like most things, it’s all about perspective.
I haven’t yet decided if I’m making a list for 2013. If I do, it certainly will not be called “2013 Resolutions.”