A High-Resolution New Year

Many readers have an unshakeable image of me from reading my column. They see Rok Finger as a cool, collective individual with a good head on his shoulders, by way of a stodgy little neck. A tough-as-nails, yet sensitive and insightful observer of human nature, in the least effeminate way possible. A creature of perfection, who could not get any better. But you could not be further from the truth.

Like anybody else, I try for improvement. New Year's is a time for me, like everybody else, to look within using my mind's eye, which has X-ray vision, and ask myself, "What would Rok Finger do?" Meaning to make himself better. Me better. I speak of New Year's resolutions. Let's make them together, shall we?

Chief among my New Year's resolutions is to cut down on use of the third person when I speak. It just gets too damn confusing. Maybe in return I could increase my use of the second person. You can do it, Rok! There. That sounds more supportive already.

Camembert and Lee have suggested that maybe I'm a bit aggressive as a roommate. Well, Lee said it. Camembert couldn't look me in the eye when I was told this, so that's as good a sign as any that he agrees. Is it possible? Are you too strong a personality for weasly jelly-spined lifeforms like Camembert? Not everybody has your self-confidence and dynamic personality, some are overwhelmed. And people don't need to be overwhelmed, they need to be encouraged. So I say, way to go! I will see to it this year that Camembert is much more encouraged to speak his mind. We will begin rigorous training in that department at 0200 hours tonight, right after V.I.P. is over. I'll make it a surprise.

I was talking with my ex-wife Arvelyn the other day—I came down her chimney dressed as Santa Claus as a Christmas surprise, and we had a happy reunion after the pepper spray's effects faded. She confessed to me that, on some level, right below the fear and indescribable rage at my behavior, she still loves me. She even wishes we could reconcile, but she said I'm far too paranoid and snap at the least little thing. I denied it, of course, but after setting fire to the Christmas tree in retaliation I didn't have much of a leg to stand on. I conceded that maybe she had a point, and I would try to improve that in the future—at least until I can find out what her ulterior motive is in this game.

In fact, you could even say that my cat Makeshift is the only one who has no problem with me. Which is why I kidnapped him. Such a good friend and ally should live with me rather than my arch-enemy/ex-wife. "Kidnapping" might be a misrepresentation. Catnapping is probably more accurate, as well as more adorable.

I'm not even getting into what my office mates think of me. So many emotionally-troubled people in one place shouldn't be given consideration, which is the logic I've been using for the Israel-Palestine conflict for years. But each of them is angry with me about something—whether it's my on-target advice on how they handle their personal lives, my complaints about their distracting breathing noises, or my wearing a wire during personal conversations (again, Mr. Bricks, nothing personal, just doing my civic duty), they all have a bone to pick with me. A bunch of lousy bone pickers.

To study myself in this context, this barrage of complaints, you'd think I needed more than a tweak here or there in the Rok Finger personality matrix. I needed a dad-blamed reconstruction. Which makes my New Year's resolutions completely clear, at least.

I resolve, first and foremost, to not let the opinions of others bother me. I must be more sure of myself, I must defy criticism in every form, and I must be steadfast against the corruption of others.

And I'm going back to the third person. Rok Finger was much closer to perfect before this mess started.

'Tis the Season for Gifts with No Pleasin'
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Re-Decorating My Life
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