The "Marine Layer"

The fog has rolled across LA for the last three evenings, heavier than I've ever seen it before. As I drive through the bare streets, through the amber cones of light that the street lamps cast down upon the hazy white that my eyes cannot penetrate, I feel cozy and eerily anxious simultaneously. It is a New Year and all of the resolutions others declare have been thrust at me like greetings at a particularly crowded party. I have none of my own.

Not because I feel that I'm perfect, nor because I'm lazy. But I feel that a single (or single set of) resolution(s) is a pointless exercise in tradition. Why are you not making new resolutions every day? My life is a constantly fluctuating continuum of change and evolution, destruction, construction, shifting motivations and desires. The only probable form of resolution in the spirit of the New Years Resolution seems to come in the form of constant examination and manipulation of the ideas I see opening up more possibilities for improvement in myself. On a daily basis.

So as I drive along the streets of LA, cut off from the familiar images of this city by a hazy mist, the city I've been in for four years and which has been host to my transition from awkward high school senior to confident and excited impending graduate, I resolve myself to daily resolutions that will lead me from one foggy night to another.