To bring in the New Year, I did my spring cleaning... last year's. It prompted me to consider my New Years' resolutions more carefully. Obviously I need to add time management to the list. Literally. Since I didn't follow through on 2003's resolutions, all I have to do in 2004 is find last year's list (possible, thanks to the spring cleaning) and pencil in 'improve time management'. The words follow a considerable record of failed or forgotten endeavors that follow me from year to year: lose weight, dress more stylishly, remember to send birthday cards, learn how to break-dance, discover the cure for cellulite, win the lottery. Several years ago I began to add ridiculous resolutions to the roster because in reality, even the every-day items are improbable considering nothing ever comes of them. My listing of resolutions has become more of a wish list than something to take action on.

Almost everyone makes New Year's resolutions, but hardly anyone I know keeps them. Joe, the guy down at the corner store, grimaced when I asked him about his. He already knows he won't keep up his weight loss program, one that simply entails eating dinner before 8 p.m., and it's only January 2. I, myself, have already considered breaking a few of my pledges - after all, bad habits are hard to shed. And anyway, there's always tomorrow... or next year.

In addition to adding 'improve time management' to this year's list, I'm also considering 'cease making new years resolutions'. But how could I stop following a tradition that's been around 4000 years, since the ancient days of the Babylonians? Their lists of resolutions were probably short and sweet, as they'd have to painstakingly chip them out of stone tablets. I've read that their most popular resolution was to return borrowed farm equipment. Now that's a resolution even I could keep (that is, if I lived anywhere near grass).

The Babylonians were onto something. They gave themselves achievable goals. Maybe we should keep our lists simple and clutter-free. Perhaps we'd actually be able to achieve something written on them. If we have only one goal to pursue, how could we go wrong? We can throw our full weight at the problem without distractions from other pesky aspirations and the guilt that comes with ignoring them.

Committing my self-improvement objectives to a list makes them scary. They leave the happy place in the back of my mind and become real. I must feed and nurture them or they will die and mock me in the process. I've made ambitious proclamations about losing weight over the years, only to meekly admit failure when I'm asked how things are going. It's a cycle of embarrassment I can count on from year to year. I don't like to make my life more complicated than needed and would rather not make resolutions in the first place. Still, every New Year's day I bring out my tattered list once again, if for no other reason than habit. I know that ultimately, the list doesn't matter. I am not the only one to quickly stow her list away, back to its home in the subconscious, before week's end.

As for 2004, I've decided to maintain the tradition set forth by the Babylonians. I will continue to make New Year's resolutions, but this year, I won't set myself up for failure. I will add 'improve time management' to the inventory but my resolution is simply to keep my list in mind beyond the month of January - possibly, even, the entire year.

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