So a new year is once again on the horizon. A new chance to turn it all around and make my life a pleasure rather than a mess. Yet I never manage this simple feat, and now I start to wonder, do any of us? Each year, the same resolutions: quite smoking; lose weight; find a job that you actually enjoy and yet still pays the same salary; meet Mr. Right; take up that hobby you’ve always wanted to do. Every January 1st, the same resolutions. Every December the 31st, the same realisation that I’ve once again failed to achieve any of them.

Why do I, indeed any of us, bother? Put ourselves through this same charade every year? A few years ago I made the resolution to make no more resolutions. I still got to December the 31st of that year feeling unsatisfied with what I’d come to achieve with my time. And I hadn’t even set myself up with any expectations!

So this year, I’m taking a new tack. Fuck it up. Go for it. Seems like a bad idea? Do it. Eat that entire box of Krispy Kreme’s by yourself. Chain smoke like you’ve got a personal grudge against your lungs and arteries. Quit your job – not with the intention of going on to a new and better place, just to get away from the tedium of where you are now. Money to burn? Burn it! Literally if you’re a member of the KLF. Maybe once I’ve torn myself down to my lowest level, I can start to rebuild it all on new foundations. Maybe it’s only by revelling in my vices like a dog rolling in dead animal will I come to realise just how good I actually have it.

I have a job – maybe not a great one, but it pays the bills and gives me something to do with the day. I gave in my one month’s notice yesterday. Yes, I smoke too much, but (and so few people will admit this to themselves) I ENJOY it. I love that first drag of the morning. I’m not going to be guilted by family and the government into giving up something that, in all honest truth, makes me feel good. I’ve stocked up on Malboro lights, and I’m seeing the New Year in with a fag in my gob. Okay, so my frame’s carrying a few more pounds than it should, but bugger it. Why should I conform to what society expects a girl should look like? I *like* having hips. Everything with the words "low fat" on has been thrown out of my kitchen and into the bin. Mr. Right? Mr. Good-For-One-Night will do. And as for that new hobby... you know what, maybe I’m just going to rediscover an old one. I found this site a few months ago during a bored lunchtime at my soon-to-be ex-workplace. Writing. I used to spend so much time writing, just because I could. I don’t think I’ve picked up a pen in months. Years. I intend to spend as much of 2006 as possible with a pen in one hand, cigarette in the other, a bar of chocolate on the table and Mr. Good-For-One-Night asleep in the bed behind me while I once again explore the depths of my head.

Bloody hell, but I’m looking forward to next year.