A good sign of maturity must be when the gag reflex doesn't kick in while trying to push by a model-beautiful couple indulging in some PDAs on the corner of Robson and Howe (that's Personal Displays of Affection, not the Palm Pilot variety), even while with siblings, aunt, and very cool grandma in tow. I started getting those warm fuzzies that anime cartoonists represent with glowing pink auras and a sudden shift to super-deformed animation, and really wanted to hug someone. Two years ago, I'd still be in the go-find-a-room contingent; now, I'd be better suited to penning Hallmark commercials.
And along the lines of the ain't-life-grand train of thought, there's this guy (guys, it turns out -- they're identical twins) that were on Robson that can do ridiculous things with a spray can. I'm not sure I would have chosen to specialise in psychadelic lunar landscapes, but I have a good deal of respect for anyone that can wield anything well enough to create a poster in ten minutes while dressed in a metallic suit and gas mask. Most days, I'm tempted to write off the achievements of humanity, but SprayCanMan and the Metropolitan Museum of Art should keep that cynicism at bay for a bit longer.
It's time for New Year's resolutions, isn't it? I've loved them ever since I read Bridget Jones' Diary, because, quite frankly, everything seems cool when the British do it.
I will
Stop believing my hair will behave without due effort on my part.
Accept that 1 assigned essay = 3 actual essays written.
Receive calls and visits from family with grace and enthusiasm befitting one who owes parents everything.
Sit up straight.
Sip, not gulp.
Dress warmly.
Be fiscally responsible and financially savvy.
Read the paper. And then recycle it.
Do the Special K thing: eat well, exercise, and relax.
Visit my grandparents.
Write letters, birthday cards, and thank-you notes.
Get out more, while also expanding mind with self-selected literature.
Clean contact lenses according to optomotrist's directions, not own.
I will not
Buy more than 6 units of any fruit at a single time. Ditto 4 L jugs of milk.
Pass out at Dan's apartment within 20 minutes of arrival when visiting after class.
Obsessively research schools, cities, careers, clothing, or courses.
Stop drinking coffee, or falsely claim to be "cutting back".
Order even potentially spicy dishes at restaurants.
Presume to know more than my parents.
Avoid more than 1 out of 3 family dinners.
Leave laundry until wearing last pair of underwear.
Exercise compulsively.
Skimp on the moisturizer, conditioner, or dental floss.
Oh, and for personal posterity: my sister and I have devised a generational life goal for the three of us to tackle and give our lives meaning. Yes, I want kids -- extended immersion in Winnie-the-Pooh merchandise does that to the brain -- but that's kind of boring.
Instead, we're going to start a charitable foundation in our parents' name. They insisted they weren't leaving us a legacy -- they wanted to finance our education, which is a much bigger deal than it looks written down -- so we figured we'll give them one. Or try to!
Happy New Year! Here's to family, friends, the good people I'll never meet, and living for today.
And along the lines of the ain't-life-grand train of thought, there's this guy (guys, it turns out -- they're identical twins) that were on Robson that can do ridiculous things with a spray can. I'm not sure I would have chosen to specialise in psychadelic lunar landscapes, but I have a good deal of respect for anyone that can wield anything well enough to create a poster in ten minutes while dressed in a metallic suit and gas mask. Most days, I'm tempted to write off the achievements of humanity, but SprayCanMan and the Metropolitan Museum of Art should keep that cynicism at bay for a bit longer.
It's time for New Year's resolutions, isn't it? I've loved them ever since I read Bridget Jones' Diary, because, quite frankly, everything seems cool when the British do it.
I will
Stop believing my hair will behave without due effort on my part.
Accept that 1 assigned essay = 3 actual essays written.
Receive calls and visits from family with grace and enthusiasm befitting one who owes parents everything.
Sit up straight.
Sip, not gulp.
Dress warmly.
Be fiscally responsible and financially savvy.
Read the paper. And then recycle it.
Do the Special K thing: eat well, exercise, and relax.
Visit my grandparents.
Write letters, birthday cards, and thank-you notes.
Get out more, while also expanding mind with self-selected literature.
Clean contact lenses according to optomotrist's directions, not own.
I will not
Buy more than 6 units of any fruit at a single time. Ditto 4 L jugs of milk.
Pass out at Dan's apartment within 20 minutes of arrival when visiting after class.
Obsessively research schools, cities, careers, clothing, or courses.
Stop drinking coffee, or falsely claim to be "cutting back".
Order even potentially spicy dishes at restaurants.
Presume to know more than my parents.
Avoid more than 1 out of 3 family dinners.
Leave laundry until wearing last pair of underwear.
Exercise compulsively.
Skimp on the moisturizer, conditioner, or dental floss.
Oh, and for personal posterity: my sister and I have devised a generational life goal for the three of us to tackle and give our lives meaning. Yes, I want kids -- extended immersion in Winnie-the-Pooh merchandise does that to the brain -- but that's kind of boring.
Instead, we're going to start a charitable foundation in our parents' name. They insisted they weren't leaving us a legacy -- they wanted to finance our education, which is a much bigger deal than it looks written down -- so we figured we'll give them one. Or try to!
Happy New Year! Here's to family, friends, the good people I'll never meet, and living for today.
