I can't help but feel that the time for casual air travel has past. I envy those who were able to fly around the world for pleasure without thoughts of carbon emissions and peak oil.

I admire those who study abroad. I would like to do so myself. I admire those who travel so that they may give their time to good causes. Teaching children, preventing disease, helping the unfortunate, getting an education. These are good reasons to travel.

Perhaps this is unfair of me. I would like to see the world, but the desire is less strong in me than in many of my friends. I am more easily contented, and even so I am not sure I want to live this way. I have family in California, Alaska, and South Africa. I want to visit Ireland, England, and France. And it is far easier to find time for a visit than for an educational or volunteer opportunity.

When I was a kid my family had frequent family reunions. My father's parents lived in Florida and had children in California, Nebraska, and Massachusetts, and so the brothers and their families all would fly to Florida for a short stay and then fly back home again. Those family reunions were important to me and I wouldn't want to deny anyone that. But...

I don't think there any clear cut guidelines, but you have to think about it. You must.

In other news, I walked close to fifteen miles yesterday, which is way more than I am used to these days. I could feel it in my feet and in my hips, and I'm not sure if I was feeling something new, or if I have simply forgotten what it feels like to walk any sizable distance.

The last two days have been good for small accomplishments.

I always seem to have a list of one time activities that should be easy to accomplish and yet never seem to get done. Buying a bicycle for example. I did that yesterday. I bought myself a KHS Flite 220 Triple, a name which, I admit, meant nothing to me before and means little more to me now. It does, however, appear to be bike which will suit my purposes nicely, though it isn't as nice as the old Trek it is replacing, and it will take some time before I am used to the smaller frame. I've equipped it with a rack, fenders (with mud flaps!), tire liners, toe clips, and a kick stand, and it should be good both for commuting and for shorter trips around town.

I haven't yet had the chance to put many miles on the bike, but in addition to riding it home from the shop yesterday I also rode it to work this morning, and to the hospital for some blood work this afternoon. I'm glad to be starting with these short rides, not only because it has been so long since I've been on a bike, but also because it allows me to get a feel for the bike and for what kind of adjustments I may make to the fit.

The blood work, by the way—it is also on my list of small accomplishments. The last time I had had to go in to the lab for a test I put it off for over a year and managed to lose the paper work. And the thing is, it wasn't so bad. I used to faint at sight of a needle and, well maybe I still do, but I've learned not to look. This afternoon I spent an uncomfortable few minutes staring at a clock, concentrating on the second hand as it clicked its way around. I never saw a needle and I never saw blood and it was over before I imagined it possible.

This morning I will take a taxi to school, though the weather is lovely and my destination is only eleven miles away.

This is silly.

I will own a bike by Monday. There can be no excuse for having put it off this long.

I woke up from a nap to find the room filled with light as the afternoon sun shown through the windows. Last weekend I threw a party for a few friends—it was a great success, with good food and tunes, and everyone bringing their own instruments—and Grant and I did a massive spring cleaning in preparation. The apartment is still unusually uncluttered, which I enjoy, and as I woke from my nap I took pleasure in the way the clean wood floors glowed in the bright light.

I feel like I am within reach of a place I once was, and to which I have long desired to return.

I didn't complete a single one of my resolutions last month. While I have been productive in other ways I am still pretty disappointed in myself. I need to get my life in order.

Why didn't I post my resolutions last week? The answer is simple, though perhaps unsatisfactory: I was knitting. Sure, I could have managed to both finish my sweater and to post new resolutions, but I let myself be distracted.

Now the sweater is done and I have no more excuses, so here we go:

I made five resolutions at the beginning on the month. To see an optometrists and get new eye glasses; to make an appointment to see a dentist; to clean up the code and finish the website project I have begun for the library's special collections; to make music everyday, to practice the mandolin and the violin regularly, and to practice the bassoon at least once at each week; and to read a novel in French. Although I did not follow any of these resolutions in their entirety they shaped my January for the better. I'm glad I made them.

Let's see how I did:

• I saw an optometrist and got a new prescription for eyeglasses. I have yet to purchase a new pair of glasses but should be doing so soon.


• I did not make an appointment to see a dentist, but I did make an appointment to see my doctor, which is something I also had to do.
  
• I made significant progress on my volunteer projects for the library, though I am disappointing in myself for not finishing them before my semester began. Still, I managed to turn what appeared to be an unmanageable task into something which should be fairly easy to complete if I just put in the time.


• I did not make music everyday, but I did make a lot of music. I played tunes with friends, I had regular violin lessons, and I practiced the bassoon once each week.


• I did not read a novel in French. I did not even come close to reading a novel in French. Still, I probably studied more French than I would have had I not made this resolution.

Other accomplishments, not related to my resolutions, include knitting a nice warm hat, and nearly finishing my first sweater (it should be done in a day or two). Also, Katherine and I have now been dating for over six months.

I will try to post my resolutions for February tomorrow.

I'm looking forward to a weekend of friends, food, dancing, and good times. Here are my plans so far:

Friday night: music at Dan's followed by contra dancing in Greenfield. I hope to see my friend Sara, whom I haven't seen for far to long.

Saturday: baking lots of hermit cookies, Gillian's birthday party and meeting up with Katherine, picking out movies at the public library, and a potluck with the Pedal People followed by a music party and radio show (in which I will participate as a member of the "Pedal People House Band").

Sunday: cooking (and eating) Indian food, including making a big pot of dal or vegetable stew to last the week. Also, knitting, watching movies, playing the bassoon, and snuggling.

Monday: violin lesson, contemplation, and enjoyment (i.e. I don't have many plans for Monday yet).

I've said it before, but there is nothing like an hour of bassoon playing to clear the sinuses. Not only that, but you can make music at the same time!

I failed to play the bassoon at all last week, as I had intended, but I don't feel like I'm too far off schedule. I'm not doing so well with some of my other resolutions. I haven't begun to read La Peste, and I have a feeling it will be slow going. I am similarly behind on my coding project for the library. Oh well. I'll do a little of each tonight, and then I'll do my best to continue each day after.

I have long had mixed feeling about the New Year's holiday. I am not a fan of large parties, loud noises, or champagne, and celebrating the moment when our calendars change has always seemed, to me, to be arbitrary and silly. I do, however, appreciate the celebration of opportunity, hope, and resolution, and in this sense I believe it is one of the most sensible and meaningful holidays in which I have had the opportunity to take part.

New Year's resolutions provide an admirable way of celebrating this aspect of the holiday, and it is this part of the holiday that I most enjoy. I welcome the reminder to revisit my past resolutions and the stimulus to create new ones. Lately, however, I have felt no need for the latter. Or perhaps it is exactly what I have needed, but I have needed it in frequent doses, not in one year intervals. The situation is this: I have been constantly aware of the many things that I would like to do, that I should do, that I must do. Each day I think of things worthy of my time and effort: I want to read a novel in French; I should write my grandparents more often; I need to get more exercise, etc. And, in my head, I make timid, informal, resolutions. I say to myself, "That's a good idea. I should do that each day. That's what I'll do." But I don't really resolve to do it. I feel no commitment and I make little effort as a result.

I don't want to simply consider change. I want to make these things happen. I need to be honest with myself. I need to make myself accountable. My resolutions need to be formal, they need to be public, and I need to revisit them frequently. Once a year is not enough. And so, this January I won't make New Year's resolutions—I will make New Month's resolutions. I will do the same in February and the same in March. I will post my resolutions here, and I will write about my progress—I do think I will make progress—and if all goes well I will do the same for each month of the year.

The fall semester ended last Saturday. Our semester grades are already posted in the online system, and I did well, receiving an A and an A-. I don't really know what that means. I don't feel that I did exceptional work. I am sure I wasn't at the top of the class. Did everyone receive some flavor of an A? I suppose that must be so.

It is discouraging to know that the grades we receive do not differentiate between those who passionately devote themselves to their school work and those who do only what they must to get by. I fell into the latter category this last semester, and I seem to be the only one who cares.

Is it for the best? Perhaps. I wasn't overly fond of my classes this semester, and I am glad that I didn't have to devote too much energy to work that I didn't value, but I would feel better if my grades reflected that lack of dedication. I would have felt bad if my instructors had taken me aside to express their disappointment, but that would have been better than this. It confirms that the work that seems least valuable to me also has little value to them, but if that is the case, why do they assign it in the first place? I fail to understand.

I admit I'm having some doubts about whether I made the right decision in deciding to attend library school here in western Massachusetts. Keeping my job at the library has in many ways been a blessing, but I can't help but wonder if it has also been limiting—who knows what work I might have found had I aggressively pursued new work in a place like Boston? More importantly, the courses offered here at the western campus are extremely limited. The classes I most want to take never seem to be offered at all, and my schedule always seems to be determined by compromise and necessity. Today I was notified that one of my classes for the spring has been cancelled due to low enrollment. I was able to find another appropriate class to take in its place, but I can't help but be discouraged. The interesting classes, when they are offered at all, are always cancelled due to low enrollment.

I will finish my spring semester here in western Massachusetts, but if I can find work in Boston this summer I may finish my degree there. I don't like the idea of living in a large city, but I have let my aversion to city living carry too much weight considering I have never given it a try.

This is all out of character for me, I know. I'll feel better after I've made myself some hot chocolate.

Lately I have taken to putting cranberries in pancakes, and I do think it a tasty innovation. I'm a big cranberry fan. This morning I had cranberries in my oatmeal, which was also tasty, but not nearly as pleasing as cranberry pancakes.

What would I do with out all these wonderful new world ingredients? Cranberries, squash, tomatoes, peppers. I love them all.

Interestingly, it is corn, that pervasive American staple, that I use the least. I do like corn very much, both in corn bread and tortillas and good eating corn off the cob, but asides from the industrial ingredients which I try, but still often fail, to avoid, it plays only a very small part in my diet.

When I received the invitation, I had every reason not to go to play tunes at Lisa's. I've been sick. I have homework to do. It was beginning to rain. I went anyways, and I'm glad I did. Though I'm still a little ill, I still have homework to do, and I did get a little damp, playing tunes with folks was exactly what I needed. We had a good sized ensemble: Lisa and I play mandolins, Kristen and Olivia played fiddle, Mark played flute, and Tim played bass. We played until ten o'clock, far later than any of us had meant to.

Thank goodness for music and awesome folks.