I have a pretty shoddy record when it comes to New Year’s resolutions.
What I’m very best at is making them. Last year, I bought a leather-bound notebook with rich-looking silver pages inside. While at Office Depot, I discovered a fountain pen, nestled in silk lining in one of the most beautiful boxes I’ve ever seen. No cheap ballpoint pen for the new me.
I rushed home at dusk, sat in my favorite chair and flipped on my floor lamp. Because of the life-changing resolutions I was making, I decided to print each one on the top of a page and leave the following ten pages blank so I could document my successes throughout the new year.
I came up with 13 resolutions, all of which would make me a better man.
Then real life happened early in January about the time my fountain pen leaked ink on my favorite shirt. I’ve eaten a lot of Fritos since then (broken resolution #4).
Last week, I noticed a leather-bound notebook on the shelf next to the books I tell people I’m reading. I smiled to myself as I ripped out 13 pages of the person I always wanted to be.
Happy New Year.