Where's the fire, 2005?

Yes! Look at all those clarion calls I got from fellow bloggers, especially my mentor Winky, and my former slav--I mean housemate Thoresen Wells. (When did Thoresen become a small black child? Why doesn't anyone tell me anything??) I am heartened by your support, all of of you. I even had to remove my pincenez and parlor gloves momentarily, as both were soaked with my salty, grateful tears.

Last night I stayed up late working on stuff and despite being so tired I think my eyeballs are about to melt into goo, I can't quite settle into sleep yet. I think it's partially because my conversation with Winky just reminded me that I haven't made all of my resolutions yet for 2005 and the damn year's already going so fast. It's only Jan. 10 and I'm feeling nostalgic for 2005.

I have an admittedly corny but beloved ritual with making resolutions. I like to sit down with a nice black pen, my journal and a bottle of wine. I read through the past year's events, and I take in all the crap-ass things that happened, and all the sweet things, all the while getting softly drunk, the kind of drunk you get only when alone. Then I let it all stew in a soft-wine-bitter-haze. And then, finally, I record YE RESOLUTIONS, some of which I actually keep. Some get transferred to next year's resolutions; others just fall away because I don't care about them anymore.

Anyway, here's the few that I have so far:
1. Take Spanish lessons
2. Get better about remembering birthdays
3. Don't hang out with buttholes
4. Resume a regular yoga practice
5. Finish book project
6. Drive up the West Coast

Make your own guesses about which ones have been long-standing. (Here's a hint, amigos: no sabe espanol.)