And every year a new year begins

Every January the fresh-startedness of a new year overcomes me and I get the overwhelming urge to start something. And every year: failure. And every year I lament the disturbing fact that I can't seem to finish anything I start. And every year I write a variation of these same exact sentences. And every year every year THE END except it isn't 'cause, look, Ma! Here I am, once again vowing to do something. Write more. Take pictures. Lose weight. Punch myself in the face. Except not really on that last one (I'm saving that for 20-sixteen). Something is going to happen in 2015. And it's going to be exciting. And if it's not exciting? It's at least going to be finished. Because 2015 is the Year of Finishing What We Start. Because the thing about not finishing goals you've set for yourself is there's no one to blame but you and there's no one more disappointed in you than you. And we're not going to spend the last ten months of 2015 being disappointed in ourself. Also, we're going to stop starting sentences with conjunctions. Happy New Year!