September 2, 1999

I've decided to treat myself this week ... to some new resolutions.

I know. Normal women "treat" themselves to uncomfortable new shoes, or trendy little chocolates wrapped in gold foil, or teeny-tiny bottles of Redken Flash-Wash Shampoo. *I* treat myself to resolutions. Think maybe this has something to do with those missing chick chromosomes* again?

These aren't New Years Resolutions, obviously. We're three-quarters of the way through 1999, and I'm still working on that "lather, rinse, repeat" resolution I made last January. And I refuse to get swept up in any of this *Millenium Hoopla* until 11:59:59 PST on Friday, Dec. 31, 1999. ("Honey! Got any cash on you??")

These aren't "recovery-related" resolutions, either: I still have a couple of weeks to go before we reach that landmark one year of sobriety. I'm sure that when September 15th rolls around, I'm going to have plenty to say on the subject -- specifically, how twelve alcohol-free months have improved everything from my emotional outlook to my health ... from my bank account to my sex life ... from my sleep patterns to my nine healthy fingernails.

But again, that's down the road.

No. I'm making these particular resolutions ... just because. Just because I think it's a good idea to re-evaluate our lives from time to time, for one thing. And just because autumn is around the corner, and I always feel the need to clean out my closets and start making lists and geting my life in order -- literally and figuratively -- at this time of year. Even if I AM living in Seasonally-Challenged "Sweater?-Whut's-A-Sweater?" California this year.

(And  --  I admit it  --  "just because" I don't actually have anything more interesting to write about today.)

Resolution #1: I resolve to NOT DIE any time in the next forty years.   At least, not on purpose. David and I got started late on this Spending the Rest of Our Lives Together stuff -- squandering the first forty years of our lives on bad relationships, bad career moves, bad hairdos, bad habits. Now we've found each other, and I am determined to spend the next forty years in blissful, creative, silly, HEALTHY togetherness ... even if it means I've gotta do stuff like foregoing the Triple Chocolate Thunder once in awhile, or flossing, or NOT drying my hair in the bathtub, or ... shudder ... exercising more than my eyebrow muscles occasionally (she says, squinting in annoyance at the very thought).

Resolution #2: I resolve to NOT QUIT my JOB any time in the next forty minutes.  Part of me wants to. Ohhh, how part of me wants to. Part of me is sick and tired of doing 6,008 things perfectly, and then being treated like a mental defective because I goofed on Item #6,009. (Santa Rosa, Santa Cruz ... what's the difference? Sheesh.)  Part of me has had it up to here with feeling undermined and cranky and vomited-on all the time, and wants to march into Franz' office and announce "You can't quit me! I'm fired!" But I won't, because as fed up as part of me is with the whole thing,  there is another part of me that understands that I can't afford to screw up this opportunity. So I am hereby resolving to stick with it until at least the end of the year. (And the fact that I am PUBLICLY ANNOUNCING this particular resolution will make it absolutely imperative that I keep it. I don't want anybody thinking I'm a quitter, after all.)

Resolution #3: I resolve to learn to love Bob Dylan. Or to tolerate him, anyway. (Or -- at the very least -- to quit saying that he sounds like a goat stuck in a fence.)

Resolution #4: I resolve to finish transcribing the remaining 43,897,621 journals, diaries and summer camp notebooks currently stacked in my closet -- convert them all to HTML -- and post EACH and EVERY ONE of them on this website. In their entirety.  Just because.

Resolution #5: I resolve to spend a little less time every day doing stuff I hate. Is it absolutely necessary to shave my thighs if I'm going to be wearing a knee-length skirt tomorrow? I ask you? And Resolution #5B: I resolve to spend more time every day, doing stuff I love. Anyone want to go to Office Max and load up on school supplies with me? Library run? Foot massage? Dinner on the little bench overlooking the bay?

And finally ... Resolution #6: I resolve to quit worrying about writing ... dreaming about writing ... talking about writing ... beating myself up when I DON'T write ... and just WRITE.

I'll be back tomorrow. Consider that another "resolution."



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