Back when I first started this blog, I started it with the idea that I would be composing at least two posts a week.
Granted, I kept that pace up, for the most part, for quite a while. However, there came to be a point where I simply couldn’t keep up with the demand.
Oh, alright, that’s complete bologna. The truth is, there just wasn’t anything funny happening. At least, not funny enough to write a column about. So this started the gears in my head spinning: whatever happens to all of those overly ambitious goals we set ourselves and never keep? Or, better yet, whatever happens to all of those completely-and-totally attainable goals that we set and still fail to keep?
I’m not referring to New Year’s Resolutions. Those are doomed to fail the second we utter them. I’d be willing to wager that at least forty percent of the adult population over the age of twenty-five is already jaded enough by the repeated failure of their own New Year’s Resolutions that they utter them without any intentions of ever trying to attempt whatever-it-is.
“This will be the year I’m losing weight!” said I, December 31st at 11:55pm to the three cats gathered in my living room. The roommates had left for their party already. I had no intention of going to some overly-hyped New Year’s Eve party to pay exorbitant prices for lousy food and watered-down drinks. The cats were better company than belligerent partygoers, anyway.
Of course, I made this statement on purpose, even though I had no intention of following through. This was because, a.) I could claim I made my New Year’s Resolution; b.) it was about losing weight; and c.) there were no human witnesses around to give me grief while I munched on potato chips for the next half-hour.
New Year’s Resolutions are a given, almost expected to collapse and fail, but what about the projects? Especially the ones which are interesting and entertaining? I had a great deal of fun drafting these posts and watching nobody read them. Although, according to my traffic sources, I have a few regulars in Russia and one in Korea. (If you’re one of these people, drop me a comment sometime. I’d like to hear from you.)
All in all, I suppose it comes down to one thing: Aliens don’t care for sausage or fennel. They’re to blame. And as such, I suppose it’s only my duty to make the aliens feel more comfortable by at least consuming the sausage and making sure the fennel is hidden away in the spice cabinet. In addition, this will also help me accomplish my real New Year’s Eve goal, which is to do my part to ensure my friends and family are safe during the upcoming Zombie Apocalypse. (See here).
..and get this blog moving again.
