I thought I pasted them in a Word document, but I guess not. Oh well.
The ones I remember are:
- Run the New York marathon. Didn’t do it.
- Read at least one book a month, or, I’m being flexible here, a total of 12 for the year. Did it!
- Take a hiphop dance class. Didn’t do it.
- Do NaNoWriMo. Did it!
- Visit one foreign country. Did it!
- Save a certain amount of money every month. Erp, didn’t do it.
I can’t remember anymore.
Quite frankly, I don’t feel like setting goals for 2007. That’s right, my parents’ worst fear: I HAVE NO GOALS. I think I like baby steps better that don’t necessarily have anything to do with the new year. Less pressure. And I’m starting to hate writing about something before I do it. Somehow it feels even worse if I flake out.
I’m not sure setting those 2006 goals worked at all. I mean, NaNoWriMo and visiting a foreign country were no-brainers. I had done both before. And I didn’t start reading a lot till I began dating DK, who read, like, a couple of books a week. (That’s what happens when you don’t watch TV.) One positive influence.
As for my New Year’s Eve, which is a couple of days old now, sheesh, I spent it on my own and rather enjoyed my solitude. That’s the first time I’ve done so, and it felt, somehow, grown-up. I ran around in the afternoon trying to get to Times Square to take pictures of the craziness – they wouldn’t let us in! – then hiked to Koreatown and picked up lots of yummies for dinner. It was quite cozy stuffing my face in front of the TV while the world outside got drunk and stupid.
Monday was totally lazy. NaNoWriMo novel, posts for the city blog, the Monk marathon on USA. I’ve only seen a couple of episodes. It’s quite good. Tony Shalhoub rocks.
Then, as though 9 hours of TV wasn’t enough, I watched an episode and a half of Anthony Bourdain’s No Reservations, one of which was highlights from earlier seasons. Again, first time. I can’t decide if I like him. Sometimes he reminds me of Morten Downey, Jr. and sometimes he seems cool, like when he was with the Inuit family eating seal.
He was very respectful and knew that reacting negatively to any seal parts offered him (eyeball, anyone?) would have been the ultimate dis to his gracious hosts. Fucking classy. Plus he said it tasted good.
But, dude, I have to ask: was that seal cooked? Good lord, it was so bloody. Then again, like Bourdain said, what’s the difference really between sitting on the kitchen floor chomping on seal that you caught yourself and sitting around a dining room table carving up a turkey that probably suffered till the end of its life? At least the former is more honest.
Hm, now I’m hungry.