Resolution

They’re a tricky wicket. New Year’s resolutions, that is. I’ve done pretty well the past two years—I made several general resolutions and gave myself the entire year to accomplish them. I don’t beat myself up if I don’t make them all. I go after the spirit rather than the letter. I don’t read Figaro daily like I set out to do in Jan, but I do read the Guardian and am now fully conversant in metric units. I didn’t read 1 great work of literature a quarter nor did I finish Oxford’s History of Britain, but I did read Alice’s Adventures In Wonderland and Through the Looking Glass and the Hound of the Baskervilles.

At the same time, I set out in January to make exercise “as much a part of my life as drinking tea and reading.” And I have. It is a part of my life, just as much as tea and reading. And just like I’m apt to read trashy novels and drink tea with whole milk and sugar, my work outs are not at optimum level.

So, for 2007 I resolve to make exercise as much a part of my life as drinking seltzer. It’s pure, clean, and good for what ails you.

Because My Name is Ryan

I was so proud of myself this morning. Felt properly put together- black trousers, grey turtleneck sweater, black flats. I banished the bedroom slippers/Uggs I wore all last week and put on actual shoes. I even have eye shadow on, for crying out loud. Then I went out to get a coffee. It started to snow—just a few flurries, but snow all the same. And I thought, “Ah, it’s Christmas!” Then I thought, “why is my elbow cold?” And I looked down, and saw the silver dollar sized hole in my sweater. Can’t win for trying.

As Long as the Sun's Over the Yard Arm

"Is it wrong that I just considered saving ½ of my v8, bringing it home tonight and adding vodka to it?"

"No, it’s creative, possibly thrifty, and certainly good planning. "

Wouldn’t that be a great example to use in an interview?
Well, Ryan, can you give us an example of a situation in which you used foresight to plan for a situation using the materials at hand?

Why yes. While drinking my V8, I realized that if I saved half and combined it with vodka that evening I could have both lunch and my cocktail. Good for the diet, good for the soul.

La Vie en Rose

My co-workers and I were just musing about Frenchmen, and I announced that I am going to take a French lover. On the spot I decided that he would be married. To which Camille responded, “oh Ryan, that’s tacky.”

And I laughed. Because of all the reasons I may decide against having an (hypothetical) affair with a married man, the tacky factor would probably carry the most weight. Forget morals or scruples or a sense of right and wrong, I just wouldn’t want to be tacky.

(bear in mind, that, as I write this, my hair is pulled back and secured with a BINDER CLIP)

My (pop) Secret Shame

I love Christmas popcorn. I wait for it all year. Love, actually, may be a misnomer. Addicted to, obsessed with, once I begin I cannot stop eating it. I refuse to purchase it myself. I eat it at the office or in the homes of others. Once, and I’m not proud of this, I snuck into a friend’s dorm room and ate an entire can. He’d returned with a can after Thanksgiving. I would go into his room ostensibly to smoke cigarettes, but in actuality I was going in there to eat his popcorn. 2, 3, 4 times a day. Unlike me, Andreas was able to munch on the popcorn. A handful every now and again. Imagine his surprise when he opened the tin the Friday after break and found the popcorn gone. As far as he knew the tin had only been opened that Sunday evening. I’d finished the entire container 2 days earlier. I said nothing. Blame fell to the crowd of stoners and smokers who made themselves at home in his room, lounging on his couch and ashing in his empty Snapple bottles. The empty popcorn tin stayed up on his coffee table for the rest of the year. That summer it moved with him to the Cape and even had a place of honor in his off-campus apartment the following year. It became my “tell-tale heart” pop pop pop pop pop pop.