Wednesday, December 29, 2004 My New Year's Resolutions, 2005 Edition
I've always been cautious about my New Year's Resolutions. Some years I don't even make any. But when I do make them, I don't break them. This could be attributed to hard-headed realism, or to setting my sights too low. But I won't ponder that, as it's not important. This year I'm going to be a bit more ambitious and make a longer list, but I will still only resolve to do things that I'm reasonably sure I can do and actually want to do. So here goes...
1. I will use more body lotion. I'm not saying I'll do it every day, but I'll do it more.
2. As a result of #1 and exercising greater restraint, I will keep less body lotion on hand. My aquisition and use rates are out of whack and I will attempt to balance them.
3. I will wear more perfume. I like perfume, I have lots of it, so I'm going to spray more liberally and more often.
4. I will take steps toward taking better care of my nails. Not promising twice-weekly manicures here, but I'll try to be more attentive about chipping and reapplication of protective topcoats.
5. I will buy new lipgloss only after using up old lipgloss. I'm certainly not going to deplete my inventory down to one or anything, but I won't buy a new one without using up an old one. Unless it's on sale or unbelievably fun. I may have to rethink this one, as I already feel it being broken.
6. I will approach love and cooking with reckless abandon. I'd like to think I've been doing this for years, but this year I'll be more aware of it. I will not call 911, I will simply add more olive oil.
7. I will finish a blog posting within one week of the day I started it. I may also try to blog more.
8. I will stop dropping the newspaper on the floor after I've read it.
9. I will take more pictures.
10. I will drink more beer.
9:22 PM
This past weekend I think I caught a brief glimpse of what real writers find inspiration in. On I-10, somewhere around Vidor or Orange, I saw a sight that on some days I wouldn't even take notice of, or would casually dismiss on most others. It was a tiny boy wearing only a diaper, standing behind a plexiglass "screen" door in a trailer situated not more than 20 yards from I-10. He was watching the road. That's all I saw. I don't know what he saw, but I immediately started trying to imagine his perspective. No matter where you grow up, you'll have memories of it and be influenced by it, but this kid is literally watching the world go by. Even at his tender age, he has heard many stories and has many stories of his own. I-10 runs from Los Angeles, California to Jacksonville, Florida. Millions of cars, trucks, vans, SUVs and RVs travel I-10 every single day. Every person in every vehicle on that road has a story. Some of their stories would put a double-espressoed five year old to sleep. But every minute (for all practical purposes) of every day, all these lives, all these stories, are passing right by this tot. He is living in a trailer with a view of what may not necessarily be the most beautiful stretch of I-10, so I don't know that I'd call his perspective enviable, but there's no arguing that it's unique. I think it will influence his life in some way and that he won't forget it. You could write a whole book about the world as viewed through the plexiglass door of a trailer fronting I-10. Or that kid could write a book about someone he catches sight of as they pass his trailer. And it would all be inspired by a fleeting glimpse.
7:06 PM
