resolution, n.

The word resolution has so, so many meanings and, thus, just as many synonyms. The most simplistic definition of the word that I've found thus far, though, has got be the following:

resolution, n. a firm decision to do or not to do something.

So basically I've been going about this resolution thing all wrong.

Somehow, my resolutions always sound like they've been written by a Hallmark copywriter, or a New York Times staff columnist ("I'm going to treat my body better; I'm going to foster healthy relationships..."). The thing is, those are exactly the things I'd like to do.

Most of all, though, I resolve to move on with no regrets.

Happy New Year.

the sand inside

The hardest part about being the child of teenage parents, however academically accomplished and brilliantly talented they may have become as adults, is watching them age in front of you.

Most kids come along and their parents have already been made crazy by a life full of pressures and involvements (and baggage). But I had the unique pleasure of watching my parents become the simpering, schizophrenic, and cheerless adults all of my friends' parents were. Maybe that's harsh; my parents are neither schizophrenic nor cheerless. But today, at my siblings' Kwanzaa pageant, I watched, as if in slow motion, my Dad applaud at a hilarious(ly adorable) skit in which my sister played a Yoruba goddess out to teach two young farmers a life lesson. The expression on his face wasn't just happiness; there was something else. Like bewilderment or astonishment. And as heartwarming as it was, this was not the skit for that. His look seemed to say "how did I get here?"

Funny thing is, I know. What a strange position to be in.

2009, au revoir

In this, the year of seemingly endless celebrity deaths, the avant-garde going mainstream, and a sizeable amount of personal growth, I'd almost forgotten that the decade was, well, over.

The 00's (aughts?) were definitely my formative years. But I wasn't really, truly cognizant of passing time until well into high school. Until then, life is infinite; when you're 14, only the elderly have sand timers around their necks. And then- bam- something happens and you look down at your own neck, and there you are, sand timer-ed like the rest of them.

In the New Year and well into the next decade (at the end of which I turn 30, dear god), I think I'll end up remembering the 00's as a period of self-realization (to be distinguished, for sure, from self-actualization). Here I am, ready for the next ten years, sand timer around my neck, plans in my back pocket.

Here's to 2010.