It’s that time of year again when brave souls all over the world sit down in front of a mirror and face their demons.

Friday, December 31, 1999

It’s that time of year again when brave souls all over the world sit down in front of a mirror and face their demons.

That’s right, it is New Year’s resolution time again.

For some of us, the "again" part of that phrase refers to the unfortunate fact that we have not really stuck to our 1999 resolutions. You know, the ones where we will exercise every day, be nicer to a nasty in-law or simply to stop smoking and lose weight.

Most of the promises don’t come until after New Year’s Eve. How can you possibly make a promise to best those bad habits while you are tooting a party horn and running around with a cone-shaped hat in one hand and a bottle of champagne in the other?

And for those of us who have a little more of a sedate New Year’s Eve, how depressing is it that you are watching 10,000 people have fun on Times Square while you are thinking about how another New Year means another hash mark on the football field of life.

OK, so it is not that depressing, but the gist is – no one wants to promise anything during the holidays – except that whatever celebration you are enjoying will be the last big indulgence for the year.

Come Jan. 1, the reality sets in. The new year is officially here and it is time to pay the piper.

If I had a dollar for every list of New Year’s resolutions I have made, I would be very, very rich. If I had $50 for every one that I really kept, I would be very, very poor.

Like everyone, I start with good intentions. "This will be the year," I say. I make my list and flesh out how to turn neatly printed lists into reality.

For the first few months, I do well. If I am dieting, well, I watch what I eat. If I am trying to ignore bad drivers on the road, I have the patience of Job.

But, as the year rolls along. I begin to settle.

"Well," I might think, "I can certainly eat one piece of chocolate and eat only celery tomorrow. That is not really breaking my resolution."

Or, "gee, I was sort of nicer, I didn’t actually sneer."

By the time June rolls around, I settle for any achievement that even comes close to the original plan. If I am dieting, 2 percent chocolate milk is a victory. If I am trying to be kinder to fellow drivers, anything said in my car doesn’t count if the other driver doesn’t hear.

Self-deception can be a wonderful tool sometimes.

At the end of the year, I am back to where I started – in desperate need of a new list.

This year is going to be different. Of course, I said that last year, too, but I mean it this time.

Instead of 10 tough resolutions, I think I will pick three and concentrate all my energies on those.

Maybe, if I concentrate hard on doing the right thing when it comes to resolutions, I might have something more to show by June than a half-eaten box of chocolates.

Or, then again, maybe I just will set only one goal for the year 2000 – no more resolutions.

Renee Carey is the managing editor of The Ironton Tribune.