By Mirah W. (mwelday)

Oh, the New Year. How quickly it did approach. And, thus, arrives one of the banes of my existence: New Year’s resolutions. Every year I balk at those who set New Year’s resolutions. Every year it happens (and now, thanks to social media, resolutions are shouted from the digital mountain tops)…people make resolutions, they are committed to their resolutions for a few weeks (if we’re lucky), then they cast the resolutions to the sidelines and life continues on as it did in the previous year. It appears that life change really wasn’t all that important after all. I decided years ago (so long ago I can’t remember when) I wouldn’t set resolutions. It’s great to look forward to things or set goals but putting them under the resolution cloak just irritates me. Why wait for a new year? I suppose I should have posted a ‘Snarky Comments Ahead’ warning at the beginning of this post. Sorry about that.

But I confess to you all that I now realize I’m a hypocrite. I, the denier of resolutions, have been making resolutions without even realizing it. I’ve engaged in book challenges for several years. There have been all kinds…reading a specific number of books, reading books with specific words in the titles, reading books from specific genres, reading books by specific authors, etc. I’ve called them challenges but that’s just a disguise for what they really are: resolutions. The truth shall set me free and, much to my chagrin, make me eat crow. And it’s not tasty; those ebony wings are a choking hazard.

But it gets worse. Don’t worry; I hear your chuckles and mutterings of ‘serves her right’ and I agree. Now I’ve become what I loathe because this year I failed to reach my challenge. I am a resolution failure. I didn’t read as many books as I said I would/could in 2013. I won’t get into the details of numbers; it’s embarrassing enough that I have to admit my failings.

I suppose I should do what typically comes next and provide you with the reasons (not excuses, I wouldn’t do that) for my admitted failure…. working more than recent years, taking on more responsibilities with my job, getting through my husband’s deployment, moving to another state, spending time with family and friends, feeding my cat. Now I’ve sunk to new lows and I’m blaming my cat for my resolution failures. What have I become?

So this year I’m done. No more. I’m kicking the bucket. I’m leaving those challenges (ok, resolutions) behind. I don’t want to pick books because they meet a challenge quota or requirement. I want to read. Just read. I want to choose what I want, when I want. I want to take my time if want or read a book in a day if I want or not finish a book if I want. I won’t be bound by rules. I am a free reading spirit. So I guess in a way that’s a resolution, too. But that’s one I can live with. That’s my resolution and I’m sticking to it.

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This entry was posted on Thursday, January 2nd, 2014 at 7:13 am and is filed under Musings. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.