Posts Tagged ‘new years resolutions’

Another New Beginning

Thursday, January 2nd, 2014


Year of the… (wait while I google this) DAMMIT.

Now I wish I’d never even looked that up.

Guess who is universally expected to have the worst year next year, a.k.a. the year of the Fire Horse?

Me. The Water Rat (I know, I  know. The irony is not lost on me.2014-year-of-the-horse) who admittedly was not supposed to  - and basically didn’t – have a good year last year either.

Essentially, I can expect career setbacks, money trouble, relationship problems and low energy health-wise.

Forewarned is forearmed???

Oh well. It’s all cyclical, I suppose. One of these years my ship will come in.

In the meantime, I have to admit that the few sites I perused about this water rat/fire horse situation echoed the same advice I’ve instinctively come to with respect to conserving my energy and not burning out on work, projects, other people and their drama.

Thus, say hello to my two – and only two – 2014 resolutions:

1. Read at least one book a week. (For the curious: currently “Divergent” and next up is Alice Munro’s “The Progress of Love,” and yes, suggestions are welcome).

2. Do the minimum “for hire” freelance work needed to stay afloat – and as much as possible, only assignments/genres I love and where I get to use my voice – and focus my energy on my own (fiction) projects.

Sounds simple enough, which hopefully means I can make it happen, wild horses notwithstanding.

Otherwise, happy new year to you all!

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Resolution #2

Wednesday, December 28th, 2011

I am sitting with my brother and his girlfriend, watching a very (extremely) weird movie in which the serial killer is a tire.

But that is neither here nor there.

What is here and now is that it’s another day and thus you are owed another resolution. Yesterday we discussed writing, so today let’s tackle what I shall call


* Heal my bladder condition (interstitial cystitis for anyone out there with any tips. It’s been giving me the beatdown this week.)

* Be grateful every day

* Eat a 50-75% raw diet

* Work out daily

* Meditate three times a week

I had what I was pretty sure was a fabulous idea for a blog post this morning, but I no longer remember it whatsoever. I’m not sure why I’m telling you this except to say that obviously my brain ain’t so sharp, but also as a reassurance that perhaps one day I will come up with a good idea and actually remember AND execute it.

So that’s something we can all look forward to.

Until then, brace yourself for tomorrow’s installment of Vanessa’s New Years Resolutions 2012: the year a jaguar god returns or it all comes to a crashing halt or both or neither.

quit smoking Maui

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Resolution #1

Tuesday, December 27th, 2011

Seeing as I’m a bit bereft of useful content these days, I figured I’d share my new years resolutions…but drag it out so that it seems like you’re getting more than you really are. Think of me of the Lays potato chips of details.

Honestly, I haven’t really thought them through, so I’m not sure how many we’ll be slogging through. (hopefully at least five…)

However, and without further adieu, say hello to number one:


* finish writing, editing, rewriting, re-editing and then finally freaking submit YA novel written (a now somewhat unfathomable as it seems like another lifetime) eight months ago…

** rewrite THE FOOD MACHINE. (Be prepared to start all the freaking way over save a few passages or clever concept or two…)

*** write a new novel: this time, it’s satirical.

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Some things are better done in private

Saturday, January 2nd, 2010

So I went to the gym today, and I was expecting a mob scene. You know how it works: People make all kinds of resolutions to join a gym or get in shape or lose 20 pounds and give it their best shot for two weeks, and it really cramps my style when they hog all the machines at my club in the process.

The guy I saw managed to dislocate something and get his foot up over his head.

However, perhaps due to ye olde econonomy, things were pretty normal. I did see a number of folks on sales tours, but all in all it was a typical Saturday morning with the usual suspects (Old Chinese guy who does everything at triple speed, Anthony Hopkins doppleganger, my friend and chiropractor who is a serious gym rat, etc. etc.).

So status quo except for a few weird ass things going on that I have to tell you about. In fact, the silver lining of the whole experience was the happy realization that “Houston, we have blog material…”

So without further ado: I was sitting there quietly working on my triceps in a most lady-like and human fashion, and to what to my wondering eyes should appear but this woman crawling along the floor in what could only be a reenactment of the stages of evolution. Seriously. It was whacked.

Upon closer examination, she was apparently executing a push-up going into a lunge going into a push-up, a la “the crawl of a dying gila monster” back and forth across the room, and I felt embarrassed just looking at her. She must have been at it for hours, too, because I saw her more than once as I mixed in the biceps and triceps machines that line that section of the gym. She would come in the corner of my peripheral vision, and I would think “What is that!?!?” (being unaccustomed to large objects lumbering around on the ground at the gym), and thar she blows. Back and forth in the open area between the weights and exercise bikes, performing her strange one-woman show for all 50 people in the cardio areas’ enjoyment.

I’m certain if she saw videotape she would never do that in public again.

Oh, my stars. See what I'm saying? Is this really necessary?

Anyway, in an effort to avert my eyes, I looked away in the direction of the basketball court wherein I happened to catch a glimpse of what appeared to be a foot sitting atop a head. I squinted and yes, there was a guy with a stretch band tied around his ankle, yanking his foot over his skull and toward his stomach.

I don’t know who advised this or how it’s a good idea, but what does a stretch band cost? Five dollars? Less? Don’t these people know that they can do this weird stuff at home? The slithering crawler lady would be better off at home where at least the germs all over the floor are hers.

I, for one, perform all odd-looking or awkwardly posed activities (i.e. everything abdominal and all squat-based or lunge-related behavior) behind closed doors. We’re all better off that way.

In other news, I attempted to watch the movie Julie and Julia last night. I had heard good things about it from everyone from girlfriends to male friends to my male dermatologist, probably because I have a blog…although not one with a book deal. (Note to self: GET A GODDAMNED GIMMICK ALREADY!!!)

Anyway, it’s still sitting in the DVD player half-watched because – and I don’t mean to sound like a prude here – but I was getting unnerved by all the suggestions of Julia Child’s ardent sex life. I mean, it’s JULIA CHILD already. She kind of looks like Susan Boyle. And she talks all weird (what WAS that? She was American, right?), and I really don’t want to see her rolling around in bed – again and again and again – with Stanley Tucci.

I have to imagine the real Mr. Child was not nearly so good-looking as Stanley Tucci, and I will never ever ever Google an image to find out. What I’m already picturing with his beloved wife is bad enough.

Oh dammit!!!

I just did it.

Why do I do this to myself?

It’s horrible folks.

It’s worse than I imagined…

He’s a little tiny old man and she’s gigantic. Oh baby.

God bless 'em. I'm glad they were happy. I just don't need to see footage (real or recreated) of them in bed.

So where was I?

Oh, yes, Julia made some comment about “It’s like a stiff cock!” and admittedly I wasn’t looking at the screen and maybe she was talking about a dead rooster or something, but I don’t care. That was it for me. Movie off.

I think it’s just that there’s some people where it’s better if they keep it to themselves.

If I went to a movie called Maddy and Madonna all about how 30-something Madelieine is hoping to learn the entire Madonna songbook on the ukulele and inter-spliced with scenes from the now-deceased Madonna’s life, I would expect a fair amount of sex. We all remember the “Truth or Dare” years and the cone bra and Sean Penn and Dennis Rodman and David Blaine and the father of Lourdes and Guy Ritchie and allegedly Sandra Bernhardt and on and on and on…

It’s to be expected.

I wouldn’t be shocked or put off or creeped out.

But 6’2″ weird-talking linebacker Julia Child and her tiny Mr. Magoo husband? I don’t wanna know.

Just talk to me about butter and pastry and keep it clean.

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Goals versus resolutions versus hopes versus aspirations versus dreams

Friday, January 1st, 2010

So about ten years ago I joined a gym and part of the introductory package was that they insisted on weighing and measuring you and helping you define a ‘plan.’ Probably they were just trying to sell sessions with a trainer, but I wasn’t sophisticated enough at the time to realize that.

Madonna should really eat a cheeseburger or something.

Anyway, I was already a runner and regularly did yoga and pilates videos, so I fared pretty well in my little fitness exam.

Or at least I thought so.

At the end of the exam, the young idiot doing the evaluation shows me a little card where he’s written my weight and BMI. It was some useless record that they apparently stuck in a file somewhere. He points out a couple blank areas in the official archival log and asks me, “So what’s your goal?”

Seeing as I came in at the low end of the weight and body fat ranges for my height, and I was already  in good shape, I told him that my goal was to stay the same.

“That’s not a goal.”

“Yes it is.”

“No. Staying the same is not a goal.”

“For me it is.”

“You need to give me a real goal. That’s not a goal.”

“Well, what are you suggesting? That my goal should be to be underweight? Mistaken for an Olsen twin? Hospitalized for anorexia?”

The Bodies exhibit...or a malnourished, over-exercised celebrity? Who knows anymore.

Truth be told, I probably wasn’t that rude with him. Or rude at all. I think I was humorously annoyed more than anything. Nonetheless, I do recall that I blew off my ‘free training’ session as I henceforth deemed him too much of a jackass to waste another half an hour with. On the other hand, if I had stuck with Mr. That Is Not A Goal, perhaps I’d have Linda Hamilton T2 biceps now? Or the scary skinny arms of Madonna? Or the emaciated body of Victoria Beckham?

Who knows? Who cares?

Anywho, my point was more that some of my “goals” or “resolutions” for 2010 would probably be deemed ‘not goals’ by that guy in the sense that I already do them, but to me, they’re still resolutions. It’s hard work being me, so I say ‘maintain’ IS a goal. Prove that it isn’t.

With that stated, here they are:

1. Work out every day

2. Meditate daily

3. Find an agent and get my book published

4. Write and edit another book

5. Sell house and move out of Washington

6. Practice guitar weekly

7. Be grateful

8. Explore India for six or eight weeks

J. Lo is not scary skinny, but she does look a bit...intense. Just some wholesome, family-friendly entertainment!

9. Go to a yoga class weekly

10. Find a way to make some money with the blog

11. Read books more, watch TV less

12. Trust my instincts

13. Teach Dozer to roll over, take a bow, play dead, whisper, and smile. This may be the hardest thing on this list, as it involves someone else.

14. Teach orphans or do other volunteer work in Tanzania for a few weeks (and maybe take a stab at Kilimanjaro while I’m there.)

15. Make money! (By any means necessary…including a return to my old career if it comes down to it.)

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