I’ve lived long enough to know that my New Year’s resolutions will evaporate like soap bubbles. But I am sincerely resolved to avoid looking back on 2017, the year America went berserk. Frankly my mind, or at least the part of it with a public conscience, is looking towards 2018 when all 435 Congressional seats are up for grabs. My cynical reaction to the effect of out-of-state, on-line petitions and phone banks was upended in Alabama and Virginia. So this year I am resolving not to instantly delete MoveOn emails.
And in case anyone is interested I am leaning towards John Chiang for Governor.
Since getting high will now be legal around here I will give medical marijuana another try. The result of my previous experience was medically disappointing and my interactions with cannabis “professionals” were strictly amateur. The dosages of THC vs CBD, which appear to be the basis for recommending the correct “prescription” seem currently to be a matter of guesswork. But if some form of the wonder weed will help me sleep through the night, why not?
Watch my mouth. Be more careful with the words I use. For example I will try to steer clear of the word “misogyny” which is mistakenly tossed around to cover every form of uninvited male behavior. “Misogyny” is hatred of women. The guys making headlines hugging, grabbing, rubbing against women are not doing it because they don’t like women. Au contraire.
My resistance to technology will not abate. If you are thinking of sending me any gifts of Siri, Echo, Evie or Alexa they will be returned. I will delete all appeals to update Adobe Flash. I will continue to keep my distance from Facebook, Instagram, Snapchat, Pinterest and Twitter. Once again I will consider eliminating my landline and then not do it. Where I would like to advance my skills is with my thumbs. I’ve been slightly envious of people speed typing their text messages with just their two thick digits.
Last year I succeeded in my resolve to cut short my car travel time back from the City by leaving SF at 3pm. I am afraid that this year I’ll have to get out of town by 2 if I want to beat the #!**!!! Traffic.
I would definitely attempt to be more “woke” if I knew what it meant.
My search for a replacement for my Charlie Rose addiction will continue though there is little hope of finding a tv interviewer who switches from politicos to basketball coaches to brain surgeons with every program as deftly as Mr. Rose did. Of course there are always podcasts but there are so damn many of them and I am already giving too many hours in the week to media. I admit to an envy of the French who are enriched with all kinds of tv fare where books, films and ideas are heatedly discussed.
Reduce the number of grudges I’ve held for over 20 years.
Expand my gustatory experience but draw the line at fermented moss, sous vide nasturtium and lamb tongue tartare.
Open my heart this spring to my new grandchild.