Resolved

Last week, a Target cashier asked me how many days were in December.

"31, I think," I replied.

"Oh, good," she said. "I have four more days to eat chocolate. And drink soda. And eat fast food."

I smiled at her and wished her luck. I tried, sincerely, not to be cynical. I imagined her sleek and svelte and completely fast-food, chocolate, and soda free for all of 2008.

And then, less than a week later, here I am, doubting her. Blogging about her. Holding her up as Every Woman Who Will Fail. Mean, right? (And totally against my blog rules.)

And yet, this is exactly what we do to ourselves. We say that we believe in ourselves. We say we are listening to our dreams. We say that we will never give up. But sooner or later, we're going to be dissing ourselves and our good intentions. We're going to blame our disintegration on "not enough willpower" or "being unrealistic" or "life had other ideas."

So, for every resolution you make, consider this: do you have a plan for failure? What will you do on the day you fail to get up and write 500 words at 4:30 in the morning? What will you do on the afternoon that you eat a whole bag of Oreo cookies? What will you do when two weeks go by and you haven't been to the gym, not even to drive by it?

May I suggest that you make the answer something fun? Failure doesn't have to be miserable. On the day you realize that you haven't walked a mile for several days, give yourself a foot massage. On the morning you sleep in and don't write your word goal for the day, read a poem to yourself. On the day you eat the Oreo cookies, allow yourself to daydream for fifteen minutes. (At least make use of that sugar rush!)

You can even have a Failure Jar. Put in it several slips of paper with failure plans on them. Draw one out as needed. Celebrate. Rejoice. Because failure means that you're pushing hard enough for something else to push back. You've provoked a reaction. You've budged the universe one tiny little bit.

Whatever you plan to do when you fail, think of the cashier at Target. What would you say to her? Be at least as kind to yourself as you would to her.

And now, I'm going to get nerdy and quote an online dictionary.

Resolve:

1. To make a firm decision about.

2. To cause (a person) to reach a decision. See Synonyms at decide.

3. To decide or express by formal vote.

4. To change or convert: My resentment resolved itself into resignation.

5. To find a solution to; solve. See Synonyms at solve.

6. To remove or dispel (doubts).

7. To bring to a usually successful conclusion: resolve a conflict.

8. Medicine To cause reduction of (an inflammation, for example).

9. Music To cause (a tone or chord) to progress from dissonance to consonance.

10. Chemistry To separate (an optically inactive compound or mixture) into its optically active constituents.

11. To render parts of (an image) visible and distinct.

12. Mathematics To separate (a vector, for example) into coordinate components.

13. To melt or dissolve (something).

14. Archaic To separate (something) into constituent parts.

That's fourteen ways of looking at your Resolve for the New Year. (Isn't the music one cool?)

But I really like #11: " To render parts of (an image) visible and distinct." I can't be something that I'm not. But I can be more of what I am. And everyone, absolutely everyone, can fail with more distinction.