Resolved

I awake full of zest, marvelling at the world. Eyes lit with the fires of eons past, as my first conscious breath of the morn pierces the veil of darkness.

Am I awake?
Is this Heaven?
Can I create my own Valhalla right here in this world?
I know the scythe and plow await me, and all I need is to rise, rise to the moment and let the chill of my skin play against the sun warming my sinew.
Will the Universe conspire with me... BRAAAAAAP... WOO, morning gas, what is UP mi amigo? Who's been eating broccoli again? THIS GUY, that's who.

What was I saying? OH RIGHT, the New Year hype.
Perhaps I'd be more into it if I didn't have the notion that the New Year is just a way to remember that you need to buy a new Shetland Pony/Firefighters/Carmen Electra's Pussy calendar.
Perhaps the attitude I carry is the one that numbs it down for me. I want to believe things are renewed. I wish I could look back and close the book on 2005. But I'm not going to do that until my creditors do.
Perhaps I get sick at the dewy-eyed, cocked eyebrow, distance-staring pseudo-philosoBloggers who can't figure if they're trying to make the reader reflect on the previous year (which is summarized perfectly by actions in the month of December), or if those writers just enjoy the smell of their own rose-colored e-turds.

I once wrote in this column that I had hoped to never write something here that was a waste of time to read. I aim, still, to never write anything that is not a reflection of what I'm feeling. And if I have nothing to express, or have to force it, I keep it inside until it's fully bound together and packaged for a drop-ship, steaming, onto the chest of readership.

So as we move into the New Year, I'm going to make a resolution to myself:
Do not be fooled by the marketing, the hype, nor the self-aggrandizing stew that many a human hambone loves to simmer in.
oh...
and stop expecting so much from Owen Wilson's squinty-eyed acting.

Serious gas here, people.

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