Twenty-Aught-Eight As some see it, New Year’s resolutions, like laws, are meant to be broken. There is no psychological construct – intellectual, moral or otherwise – that can’t be deconstructed when, say, a deftly wielded martini meets the churlish grin of opportunity. If we make it, we can break it, the thinking goes (or as features editor Marty Olmstead says, “You kill it, you fill it,” should one feel the need to axe a story).

Most resolutions involve the cessation of some behavior or other (smoking and drinking are perennials, though I’ve heard more abstract notions muttered in my midst; I’ve heard someone proclaim the end of her “gallivanting” was nigh, another decided that ’08 marks the end of his “persecution fantasies”). Topping many resolution lists, of course, is “weight loss,” which often comes with specific denominations in mind – though mysteriously always in multiples of five. Cheekier resolutions include those of the ilk offered by my FilmArt3 collaborator Raymond Daigle, who resolved to have no resolutions, since his previous resolution to keep his other prior resolutions left him ultimately more dissolute than resolute. Continue reading “Resolution”