Before making resolutions for 2010, I reviewed those I had made each January 1st throughout the 'Naughties. While many had been checked off, those that remained suggested a new strategy.

I've been writing and rewriting annual goals religiously since the ball dropped in 2000, back when I was a senior in college. I take them seriously. A decade later I've thrown raves (2001), gone vegetarian (2003), moved to San Francisco (also 2003), and have my own business (2008). Despite such achievements, every year has the same leftovers. Make more art. Exercise more. Spend less. Stay in better touch with family and friends.

A new strategy was called for. Despite Sarah's success with intentions over resolutions, I have clung to my SMART goals like a wobbly buoy. Wildly successful at life-changing leaps, they admittedly leave behind daily behaviors. Now fully comfortable in my own life, I no longer need transformation. I need grace. I need focus. I need intention. And so my intentions for 2010 are "Less Waste, More Life".

Less Waste

Worried that my intentions were ambiguous bordering on glib, I almost wrote this as, "Less Dicking Around on the Internet" but as I reread my Tao Te Ching...

So, as ever hidden, we should look at its inner essence:
As always manifest, we should look at its outer aspects.

...I decided that keeping the specifics unnamed might actually let them remain more specific.

Either way, "dicking around on the Internet" had to go. I unsubscribed from all the blogs that consisted entirely of crap entitled "10 Essential Mac Apps for Simplifying Your Workflow" or "25 Vital Wordpress Plug-ins for Converting Traffic" or "[number] [superlative] [nouns] for [desirable outcome]". Every single one made me mad to read, because I either already knew everything it mentioned or—worse—I didn't... and then had to evaluate each hyperbolic claim as either worthy or worthless. All those feeds are gone. Bye.

Also, blogs written by Hipsters making fun of other Hipsters. Even ironically. Gone.

One step further, my laptop now lives at the office during the week. Yes, I will be sans computas post-six o'clock every day. It will still make it home on the weekends, for purposes of copying torrented content to our media server and whimsical side projects, but otherwise is 100% property of Diligent Creative (who owns it anyway, for legal reasons).

These behaviors have already demonstrated their potential. As Sarah returned from her haircut on Sunday, I sat in the kitchen making DIY moonjars while baking homemade bread (cracked pepper and Gruyere) with the old solar panel primed for installation on our new back porch. Solar projects (Less Wasted Energy!) and home baking (Less Wasted Money!) aside, moments where—merely a week before—I would be reading about things to do had become doing things. Gently setting down my 4-in-1 screwdriver, I looked up and said, "my life used to be like this all the time."

More Life

It becomes an inevitability that the holes abandoned by retreating waste are filled by something. In my case, I'm resolving for that something to be life. I don't mean this in the socially normative "Choose Life" sense, but in the literal sense. Plants. Animals. People. Life.

For someone with so many hobbies, I rarely enjoy them in the company of others. San Francisco has a fantastic electronic music scene, but I've sat on my ass as great artists have come and gone, weekly events went under for lack of attendance, and acquaintances that could've become fast friends have moved on to other cities.

Likewise, I hang out with only a handful of other web designers. Yes, we're solitary creatures requiring only coffee and the warm glow of Apple logos for survival, but still... we could at least get coffee together. I'm talking the IRL meatspace.

Speaking of, I tried El Diablo at CoffeeBar today. Chipotle-chocolate cappucino. Would've loved a wing man.

Finally, I'd be remiss if I didn't mention the biggest example of "More Life" of all:

Sarah's desire for the pitter-patter of little feet around the house.

By which I mean a kitten. What did you think I meant? Oh, the thumbnail for this post? That's from the poster for "2010: The Year We Make Contact". Not a science-fiction fan, I guess?