Resolution, Schemezolution,..., I'm Determined! And, This is Personal.

Hubby is right to laugh at me (note: not "with" me) when I declare to him my 2009 resolutions. It stings a bit; yet, we go through the same motions every beginning of a new year. There's a pattern, I cannot blame him.

Well, not this year. This year, I am determined.

According to studies, "40 to 45% of adults in the United States will make New Year's resolutions" and "40 to 46% of New Year's resolvers will be successful at six months." Heck. I want to be among the 40 t0 46% this year. And I will.

According to Dr. Norcross from University of Scranton, the resolutions need to be:

1. Realistic, hence attainable,
2. Part of an action plan,
3. Backed up with your own confidence, and
4. Declared publicly.

I'd like to believe I've checked off the first three requirements, and this entry is my public declaration. Here are my 2009 resolutions:

1. Body: Beyond just the body image and my perception of my physical self, I don't believe I've taken utmost care of my body. So, as part of my action plan this year, I'll be more conscious of what I put in it (declared a war on mono sodium glutamate and hydrogenated corn oil), complete a 21-day detox in January (already planned what I need!), and work out at least 3 times a week. I also would like to pick up on my running- I had a fairly good stamina- so, I want it back. Nothing like a runner's high!

2. Soul: Reading and writing are food for my soul. Although I am a verbal person and never shy to express my thoughts, I often find comfort in writing when my thoughts reflect my deeper feelings. Same goes for reading- I tend to read books that usually match my mood du-jour, seek for those moments where a book can provide some answers to what's going on in my life at that time. Both reading and writing to me are very closely related to listening to music, and a variety of it- minus some Folk, some Honky-tonk, Jug band, alcohol-infused Texan Country Music. I get my inspiration from music- lyrical and non-lyrical alike. So, this year, my resolution for my soul is to read, write and listen as much as I can! Part of my action plan includes writing on a daily basis, and taking little steps towards completing my story. I've already rejoined my trusted circle of writing friends; we start in February. Renewed my library card. Of course, I will put that iTunes gift card to use!

3. Mind: I admit, I cheated a bit on this one. This is not a new resolution per say, but rather one that I had made, pursued, and achieved, not yet accomplished. More explicitly, I had applied to a master's program at a school of my choice, and got admitted for this summer start. I am thrilled at this opportunity, one that I'd like to think that I worked very hard at achieving. At the same time, I don't feel that I am ready to celebrate this as an achievement, but rather take it in as a means to getting where I see myself going. This will be my resolution for my mind.

There. I've declared them all. Quite frankly, this does feel pretty good!

Give it a try yourself.

Love Affair with a Piece of (New) History

I am so sorry PETA, but I love my vintage three-quarter length fur coat. I do.

See, the thing is that 'my' coat is not only vintage, but it's also been custom-made to my mother's specifications. You can see it in the stitching, the quality of the lining, the details on the metal hooks, and the seamless connection of the fur pieces. In addition, it's a gift from her.

My personality gets crushed under the coat- without asking for permission, it gives you a whole another persona. Maybe a woman of means, a lady of leisure? Or, maybe one that meets her secret lover at French bistros across town? One that wears make-up to bed?

The coat begs for expensive high-heels. Also, something frail and lithe underneath. Or maybe, just a simple black cashmere turtleneck. Better yet, just a little piece from La Perla?

My imagination runs wild as I stare at my mind's 'new' self in the mirror. I can be anything, anyone.

Only underneath, I am supporting my worn-down blue pajamas, pink fluffy socks. Hair is sticking out from the makeshift bun on my nape. Manicure-less fingernails. Face too tired from previous days' indulgence. I notice my cheeks a little chubbier than usual, my face a little rounder. A pale yellow, splotchy face.

I close my eyes. Cringe that the reality does not match the imagination.

This time, I am not angry. More determined. More reflective. I am quick to think about my priorities, my goals. What matters, what does not. Isn't this part of 'growing up', I wonder.

I love my vintage three-quarter length fur coat. I really do.

So, It's a New Year's Eve... Again...

I think I have a love-hate relationship with new year eves.

As a little girl, I'd look forward to watching the festivities in our apartment- running around from the living room to the dining room back to the kitchen, just following the clatter of wine glasses, passed hors d'oeuvres in a smokey haze of 'adults' talking with louder voices, exploding with unexpected laughter, bare arms flirtatiously touching each other, and more laughter... I thought this was the best time of the year- ever... I'd get to sip from my parents' glasses, eat off of passing trays of food before they even left the kitchen. Guests patting my head, admiring how much I've grown, how pretty I looked in my outfit,...

Sometimes other kids would be involved- we would put together little plays for each other, try to display our knowledge of 'adult' topics (after all, this was the era of Dallas and Falcon's Crest), and maybe, play a board game or two until one of the 'older' kids would decide to break free and mingle with the adults. We thought he was 'cool'.

Then there were those new year eves, where I'd sit with my grandparents, watch the festivities on the television, speculate about the outfits of the singers, and nibble on food. I'd read from some of the old magazines stacked on shelves, make small conversation with their guests, and drink a glass of something bubbly at 12 midnight. The phone call from my parents would follow to say happy new year's, and perhaps, to check up on me. I wouldn't see them until the next afternoon.

In my teenage years and early 20s, tagged along with Mom, I would go from one store to another, looking for that perfect outfit, perfect shoes, and even more perfect accessories. We would go to the hairdresser's on that day, and based on the year, we would ask him to make our hair wavy or blow dry straight, or give that little trim that would prepare for the new year's eve. All throughout these activities, I would anticipate who I would kiss first: my boyfriend, if I had one that year, or maybe a new boy who would become one, at least for the night... I'd try to think where it would be... Would we be standing on the balcony overlooking the Bosphorus, or would we be amongst the huge crowd of people at the night venue with confetti showering over our heads?

I remember a particular new year's eve: Breaking out of our families' party (no one wanted to hang out with adults anymore!) and ditching her younger sister, a childhood friend and I went out to a 'hip' spot with a birds eye view of the city. Transported in her little Beetle, she gave me heads up on which guy we were meeting was her intended 'boyfriend'; and of course, he had a 'friend' that I might like. He already knew about me. Over the years, I really tried to block out this evening from memory- just the sight of that guy makes me queasy; the only part I kept with me is the (short) time I got to spend with my girlfriend, giggling like we always did when together... She passed away about five years after that new year's eve.

I have been recounting all these priceless memories of new year's eves: From a 'boyfriend' who called his mother before kissing me at midnight, the one who hugged it out with his guy friends before even finding me on the balcony, the one who was documented kissing another girl while I was waiting for him at another party, the one who called at midnight to be forgiven, the one who never forgave me for kissing his friend...

So, over the past years, I've managed to tone down my expectations and learned not to anticipate any drama to happen. And as 2008 turned into 2009, I was at peace with new year's eve: A sip of cold Prosecco and a delightful kiss at midnight.

Happy 2009.