The wind is blowing the wind chimes

Purpose meets action. Function occurs without conflict. A certain amount of friction, dust that scathes metal tubes tuned to notes unknown by the untutored, does slow the music down, but for the most part, the part-to-part self-clanging sounds like it's happening as it should.

Would that we all fulfilled our design.

Today is the traditional one for those in my culture to make resolutions.

In debate, a resolution is a stance.

Resolution is only a letter away from revolution, and "'V'" for victory" was minted from a manual insult into a Nike expression during World War II (probably; I am hiring fact-checkers, by the way; by the way, there is no pay : )

Revolving around the sun, the earth changes its speed from time to time.

And this year is a bit longer.  Conveniently, the length is a solid second.  It pays to wait for things to round out to logical increments.

A premonition upon birth that this sort of non-dream would occur … 77 years is only one lifetime.  What a repetitive cycle.

Standing at a spot the cell phone reports to a Garmin-industries' or competitors' satellite, each willing complier is complacently trying to maintain a falsehood called progress.

Writing in the third person proves difficult for those I manage, including myself.

We are in an age far beyond the once avant-garde stream of consciousness style pioneered more than a century ago* by people whose lives and attitudes still seem familiar to us, we who are supposedly four years away from magnetic armageddon.

We find it nearly impossible to view anything except through the lens of our individuality.

Self-indulgent, self-reflexive creepy creatures who can't hold onto a commitment, fact or virtue for more than a fortnight — we pretend that the resetting of arbitrary numbers back to 01-01-something-cumulatively-sequential means something.

Christmas, Easter, Rosh Hashanah, etc. — our human itch to renew when magic numbers align or the planet rotates to receive a full moon at a particular point is ________ (judgment reserved).

I also hold close my personal 2009 to-do list.  It's going on real paper.  I may report results as the months go by, but peer pressure will not be a factor in my achieving of "goals."  If the self is not motivated enough, all the WiiFit or drill sergeant goading, all the advice from friends, from the law, the Bible, etc. will not matter.

Other people post their most intimate life details to a public and semi-universally accessible virtual bulletin board, which has unknown but conceivably "limitless" copying and storage capacity. **

I know more about a high school friend's fetus than that of my first cousin, who lives in the same city, because of the former's choice to post ultrasound images and scientific facts joyfully to Facebook.

Bloggers who use full names, full-face photos and traceable life details are brave or foolish.  Sex lives, lies about the performance of cars for sale, about motivation for quitting a job, about addictions, family problems, abuse, co-workers … it's sharing that makes for good reading but questionable psychology.

Is psychology on the list?

Incidentally, my mom said she and ___ agreed I was not organized.  Of course, this strikes me as interesting, since I would describe the malfunction as procrastination.

Ready to be put off until the last minute, it's all quite itemized … it's not forgotten or out of place in the queue.  I was not able to find out what it was I was failing to deliver as a result of this disorganization problem, however.

Oh, but that I could tell you what I do know I suck at, where my shortcomings are the equivalent of stepping off a ledge that was shorter than expected and crashing your incisors into concrete at foot-level.

Bonne année.

Wish me victory.***

*SoC was coined as a word in 1855.

**Whether the will to hold "forever" all that data exists=?

***et bonne chance …