Forget resolutions. Pick a theme.

Every year it’s the same. I list 5 New Year’s resolutions. I make it half way through January 1st and realize I’ve compromised three. I reckon this problem is similar to the challenge most people face at work. Unless there is a deeply rooted desire motivating us to toil away for the company, the empty goals and tactics feel useless and inevitably lead to procrastination and malaise.

When I’m creating my work plans for the coming year, I like to identify a creative theme. Themes are more exciting than the perfunctory, blasé goals such as “increase news coverage by 25%.” “The Year of Influencing Industry Dialogue,” is much more appealing because I like deciphering social behavior and using communication techniques to weave the company’s agenda into the industry’s collective consciousness. Intangible and abstract goals do not tickle the senses. A well thought theme, however, creates a shortcut to desire.

If you’re a sensualist at heart, and groove on the heady feeling you get from inhaling a smoldering, creamy Camel, why quit? Unless a kiss from the poster child of anti-smoking sends your heart into frenzied palpitations. Swooning trumps inhaling in my book.

Desire is manifested through the senses. Identify your tells and make them work for you. In 2005, I was trying so hard not to spend money (a resolution). I tried substituting the library for shopping (this kind-of works). After hearing that David Sedaris is a self-proclaimed “tape worm,” I checked out an audio book. Eureka! Turns out my knack for listening while scrubbing shower grout is far superior than my ability to read while sitting still.

Soon I was checking out the classics and completing the homework I lied about 20 years ago. I am insatiable. No resolution required.

I eventually got to Tolstoy, he knew Dostoevsky, and then 2007 became “The Year of Russia.” And this year, I can’t decide between “The Year of Sartre and his Existential Buddies,” or “The Year of Hawking, Black Holes and the Superstring.” (Hmm, my senses are strangely attracted to the second).