It's that time of the year again, the very last day when you look back at what you've accomplished and things you wish you'd been able to finish. Every New Year's Eve we make resolutions to do certain things, like lose weight (hahaha) take classes in whatever interests us, get rid of stuff that's been accumulating over the last year, read that book you've waited so long to get your hot little hands on.
Have you ever considered the difference between a resolution and a goal? According to my Oxford Word Finder (which is a combination dictionary/thesaurus I can't live without) I found the following meanings:
resolution - a thing resolved on; an intention
goal - the object of a person's ambition or effort
It might seem like a small thing but those words aren't really interchangeable and maybe we should give them another look. Maybe this is why so many of us see our resolutions fall to the wayside a few weeks into the new year. We intend to do certain things but lose interest in getting them done, or something derails our good intentions because there's no incentive to stick with it.
Now when you set a goal, you have something tangible to work toward, a specific result. It's something you can see...maybe not literally but you assign a certain importance to it and you're more apt to work hard to reach it. And unlike resolutions, you feel badly when you fall short of a goal. The nice thing about goals is they can be extended to finish what you started. It's difficult to extend an intention.
Consider this...when you play sports your goal is to score points. If you don't score points, you don't win, you don't reach your goal. Every point is a step closer to achieving your goal. Good intentions (resolutions) won't get you very far.
Some three years ago, I made it a point to set goals rather than resolutions for the new year. Every year I've managed to reach every goal but one. It's the same one each year but I still keep it in sight and work toward it. That goal is to find an agent. So far, the writing I've accomplished and submitted hasn't been long enough to meet an agent's expectations but I keep working at it. If I had resolved to work on it, I don't think I would have got very far. At the end of each year I've been able to look back and feel some satisfaction with my accomplishments of the last twelve months. As to the goal of finding an agent one day? I'm still working on it.
Keep in mind...when you resolve to do something, you're looking for solutions. When you set a goal you know there's hard work ahead of you with little/nothing to lose and much to gain. The gain isn't just in seeing something done, but also works for personal growth.
So will it be resolutions or goals? Best wishes for your choices in the coming year.
Friday, December 31, 2010
Monday, December 6, 2010
A Piece of History Vanishes
We often don't think about the (physical) history surrounding us until it begins to disappear. Living in an apartment complex I haven't given much thought myself, to the idea.
A block west from where I live is an old railroad track that runs north/south. Most every weekday between noon and three p.m. the freight train goes by, ambling along the track that bridges the street. Often it has an engine on either end and see-saws back and forth between the nearby businesses. There are a few days when you hear the train whistle before you actually see the train. Other days you don't know it's passing by untill you hear the clickity-clack of the wheels on the trestle.
Now when we hear the train the whistle blows forlornly as it takes another route to its destination. Will we see it again? Who knows. After twenty years of impact studies the state has finally decided to allow the commuter train in our area. While it's something we need to connect us to the rest of the state, it's slowly putting an end to an era, a piece of history.
For the last month I've been watching workers slowly dismantle the track at either end of the trestle. Surrounding trees and bushes were uprooted then the railroad ties were systematically removed. When I first heard the chainsaw buzzing and chewing away at the tree trunks I was shocked at what the workers were doing and could picture all that loose dirt being washed down the hill in a hard rain. It puts you in mind of California's mudslides but on a smaller scale.
This past weekend I kept going back to the window to watch the trestle being dismantled. Sparks flew from cutting torches and separated the sides from the trestle bed. The three pieces were separated from their supports and a large crane carefully hauled them out of the way.
The next day, the workers cut into the supports and eventually took them down. I wasn't home to see them complete the work but when I got home, it was strange to see two concrete walls devoid of the iron it flanked and supported for at least a hundred years. The land on either side, for perhaps a quarter mile, is now barren except for mounds of dirt, the new but temporary landscape.
I've seen what the new trestle will look like, sleek and battleship gray but it lacks character, as do all new things. I imagine in another hundred years, someone will write about the commuter train and wax nostalgic over its passing. "The more things change..."
A block west from where I live is an old railroad track that runs north/south. Most every weekday between noon and three p.m. the freight train goes by, ambling along the track that bridges the street. Often it has an engine on either end and see-saws back and forth between the nearby businesses. There are a few days when you hear the train whistle before you actually see the train. Other days you don't know it's passing by untill you hear the clickity-clack of the wheels on the trestle.
Now when we hear the train the whistle blows forlornly as it takes another route to its destination. Will we see it again? Who knows. After twenty years of impact studies the state has finally decided to allow the commuter train in our area. While it's something we need to connect us to the rest of the state, it's slowly putting an end to an era, a piece of history.
For the last month I've been watching workers slowly dismantle the track at either end of the trestle. Surrounding trees and bushes were uprooted then the railroad ties were systematically removed. When I first heard the chainsaw buzzing and chewing away at the tree trunks I was shocked at what the workers were doing and could picture all that loose dirt being washed down the hill in a hard rain. It puts you in mind of California's mudslides but on a smaller scale.
This past weekend I kept going back to the window to watch the trestle being dismantled. Sparks flew from cutting torches and separated the sides from the trestle bed. The three pieces were separated from their supports and a large crane carefully hauled them out of the way.
The next day, the workers cut into the supports and eventually took them down. I wasn't home to see them complete the work but when I got home, it was strange to see two concrete walls devoid of the iron it flanked and supported for at least a hundred years. The land on either side, for perhaps a quarter mile, is now barren except for mounds of dirt, the new but temporary landscape.
I've seen what the new trestle will look like, sleek and battleship gray but it lacks character, as do all new things. I imagine in another hundred years, someone will write about the commuter train and wax nostalgic over its passing. "The more things change..."
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