Once again, I encourage you to write on this topic and send it to me! I’ll post it!
__________________________________________________________________

What We Talk About When We Talk About Resolutions

My friend Sirah was talking. She was an actress, and sometimes she gave herself the right to talk over all of us. The four of us were sitting around the living room, the champagne nearly drunk, the drop of the ball done hours ago. The rest of the party had left, taken the trains kept late for this night back to their apartments across the city.

“I’ve been thinking about my resolutions for a month now. I always have a long list. There’s this new diet I’ve heard about, and I’m going to get a pet and actually take care of it this time so I don’t have to foist it off on my mom when it gets sick.” She took a drag on her cigarette and blew out the smoke for emphasis. “I’m going to land a part in a major production, no more of this Donkey Show crap. I’m so done with roller skate and sparkle interpretations of the Bard.”

Laird threw his arm over her shoulder and dragged her back down onto the futon with him. “Sure you are. But you look so good in those little hot pants.”

“Stuff it.” She struggled back upright, intentionally letting her cigarette dangle too close to his face.

He pushed her off before he got burnt, but remained reclined. “I don’t believe in resolutions.”

Stephanie picked her head up off the sofa arm. “Why not? I think they’re great. I’m going to work out and get something published.”

“There. That’s why.” He struggled upright and brandished a finger at her. “First thing first, you’re going to stop exercising sometime before January even ends. That’s a stupid resolution to set and no one keeps it! Secondly, get something published? Yeah, you can do a lot towards making that happen, but more often then not, it requires luck. Luck! So if you fail, no skin off your nose, you’re not keeping yourself accountable! Just like everyone else and these stupid resolutions.”

I poured out the last of the final bottle of champagne. “Did you resolve to stop making resolutions?”

“Damn right I did. Only one I’ve ever kept.”

Sirah punched him on the shoulder, rather harder then she meant to. “Don’t be so down on everyone’s resolutions just cause you can’t keep your own.”

“Pshaw, of course I can. No one keeps them. Hey, champ, what is your New Year’s Resolution? You’re the only one who hasn’t spilled.”

I studied the Christmas lights strung above their head at the window. “I’m still working on keeping the one from a few years ago.”

“Oh, did you resolve to not make resolutions as well?” Sirah reached out and took the glass away from me and downed its contents.

I tried to decide how much to tell them. “Not exactly. I promised myself to learn to program consciences.”

“Oh yeah, how’s that working out for you, Mr. Computer Man?” Stephanie upended one of the bottle and shook it over her glass before giving up and slumping back down.

“Well, it seems to be going fairly well.”

Laird snorted and drew Sirah close again, this time she didn’t struggle. “Well, you just let us know when we should expect Skynet to descend on us and end our existence.”

I smiled and leaned back. It seemed they had talked themselves out finally. I could hear my heart beating and we sat there contentedly. I could hear gears and pistons move softly as we welcomed the new year and none of us moved, even as the timer switched off the lights and the room went dark.