I stopped making New Year's resolutions a long time ago. I followed the same pattern every year of making resolutions that I wouldn't keep because I didn't care for them, or because I knew I'd break them. If I wasn't going do it any other time of year, why would the New Year be any different?
There was the one related to some sort of vice, like drinking. Drink less, drink only four a night, drink twice a week, drink slower, no shots, two shots, only beer. Followed by a list of self-improvement points for my body and soul. Within a few weeks, they'd be shoved under the rug because I didn't think any of it was really required until I was um, having kids or forced into some other situation where my moral values would be questioned. There was the generic resolution to spend less and save more. Save more until I'd find myself on Fillmore St, running towards the cute dress in the window with my name written all over it. Then I would undoubtedly make a promise for travel, a trip to an exotic location that my poor student budget couldn't afford. Yes, this is the same budget that included my 'Kimmie' dress. But lack of money and plans for execution couldn't stop me. I'd buy the travel guide anyways, preferably one with big pictures so I could really envision myself there. Lastly I'd have the carefree, spontaneous, live by the seat-of-my-pants one. Ha, such insanity. There's no way my color coded, sorted by clothing type closet would have survived under such a resolution.
But it's not like I'm without goals or a desire for more. I definitely have them, I just don't say it out loud.