First off, let me say that I’ve taken New Year’s resolutions seriously for as long as I’ve taken Personal Information Management seriously, which is getting on forty years.
People have two peculiar reasons for dissing New Years’ resolutions:
- They’re “arbitrary” (meaning, I guess, that New Year’s Day is an arbitrary time to make a resolution, or perhaps that the annual cycle is an arbitrary time scale for goal-setting). Well, I agree that they’re arbitrary, but so what? If you tell me you want to make resolutions on the Summer Solstice, or on the closing day of every calendar quarter, I’m not going to tell you that you must do them on New Year’s day. That said, there is an argument for doing them at a relative down time (New Year’s Day is a holiday without an event, if, like me, you don’t watch Bowl games). Said down time closely follows a time of great excess (Thanksgiving through Xmas). So maybe it’s a good time to reflect in tranquility and set aspirations.
- People break them, so they’re useless. Well, Eisenhower said that “plans are useless, planning is priceless”. I think the thought applies here.
So, OK, let’s stipulate that we want to make New Year’s resolutions. How many? What kind?
I’ve gone from “Make a small number and be sincere about them” to the other extreme: “Make a few for each major life area” (like Health, Work, Fun, Love). I’ve found that I didn’t gain very much by keeping the number small (in particular, it didn’t make them any more likely to succeed :-)) and that I gained a lot by being comprehensive, by having a goal for most of the important things I want to do during the year. 7 Hard Problems book? Goal 1: finish a draft. Goal 2: build up the core of a community. Body? Goal 1: Hit 185 pounds. Goal 2: Hit 15% body fat. Goal 3: try a team sport or group fitness class.
I don’t generally share my goals much. I’m a little ashamed of how much they matter to me, and I basically want to keep them private. Baring the details of my work on 7 Hard Problems is about as much transparency as I can manage. I have zero desire to discuss my goals on family or feelings or fun.