drummerdeeds: My New Year’s resolution is to get more realistic expectations. I need to stop watching MTV’s Real World/Road Rules Challenge under the false notion that there’s going to be more than a hot-tub make-out between two women on the show.
I hope to remove my faith in Ryan Murphy in thinking that Brittany and Santana on Glee will somehow confess their love for one another and be in a monogamous lesbian relationship. I plan to stop believing that Carmen de la Pica Morales will reemerge in TV Land and steal my heart once more, once and for all.
Finally, I resolve to stop expecting to find a girlfriend while I continue to be oblivious, apathetic, and a workoholic. The last one is only if there’s time, though. Happy New Year, everybody!
Lindsey Byrnes: My New Year’s resolution this year is to follow through on one or more of the resolutions I made on past New Year’s, that way if I don’t I won’t let myself down any more than I already have. Oh and when I’m done with that I will probably join a gym, quit eating dairy and find a mountain to climb.
Heather Hogan: I resolve to treat other people’s favorite stories the way I expect other people to treat my dog.
Three years ago my roomie and I rescued the most precocious, adorable little beagle that you ever did see. She’s got eyes so brown that every other color in the Crayloa box is jealous of her. She’s got ears so floppy that the wind can catch them just right and make her look like she has wings. She’s got the cutest little snore when she’s sleeping and the sweetest little head-tilt when she’s confused. She’s got an obstinate disposition and a howl so obnoxious it sounds like it was cultivated in Satan’s own choir. She ate through a wall one time, through a whole entire wall. She’s adorable — oh, so adorable! Also: she’s a real asshole.
But here’s the thing: You can’t call her that. You can’t say anything about her except that she’s charming and delightful, and that just looking upon her wittle face makes your heart grow three sizes. ‘Cause you don’t love her. If you speak ill of her, or scold her, or raise your voice at her, I will kneecap you. Sure, she probably shouldn’t be doing whatever it is she’s doing, but you let me tell her that. She sleeps under my covers and wags her tail when I come home, and I’m the one who has spent full nights with her — on more than one occasion — at the emergency animal clinic. (She’s eaten aspirin too, and a bag of Christmas tree lights, and an entire chocolate pie.)
If you love something, it gives you an uncommon degree of empathy when you’re dealing with that something — and people who don’t love your something shouldn’t talk s–t about it.
And that goes for writing too. I said some really unkind things this year about TV shows and movies and books that I didn’t even try to love. (Check out my attempt at a Glee recap if you need a reminder.) Being a writer means that sometimes you have to write about things you don’t love or like or even care about. And some of those things deserve to be taken to task on principle. But some things are subjective, things like story. If I’ve spent sleepless nights trying to understand a story, if I’ve let a story sleep with me in my bed, if I’ve loved it, then I’m allowed to threaten to hang it outside of the window by its toes. But if I’ve just wandered in off the street and started screaming at it to stop barking, well that’s just not OK.
Bridget McManus: My New Year’s resolution is to dance more. I’m a girl that likes to shake her bon-bon but I rarely allow myself to go out and shake it for the world. In high school one of my superlatives was “Most likely to be on the Grind” (MTV’s dance show from the 1990s).
In 2011, I also want to officially become a vegan. I’ve been a vegetarian for eight years and I’m ready to make the switch and no longer consume any animal products. Except for cheese, can I still eat cheese?