No idea's original. I love the Stranger's annual regrets issue, which this year featured cancer regretting that it didn't off Lance Armstrong, amidst other poignant, hysterical, and bewildering items.
I regret my comfort at funerals.
I regret Chan Gailey's utilization of CJ Spiller.
I regret locking my keys in my car outside of a therapy appointment in April.
I regret not realizing until the days of real fighting (UFC on Fox) and fake fighting (WWE Smackdown) events that they were occuring at KeyArena.
I regret depression.
I regret consistently asking the homie Viral to go to shows with me less than 24 hours before doors.
I regret ordering a deep fried taco at the Ponderosa Grill in Hill City, South Dakota.
I regret Mike Shanahan keeping Bob Griffin out of Week 16.
I regret not submitting more work this year, especially to The Burton Wire.
I regret anxiety.
I regret not re-reading my journals.
I regret not blogging.
The measure of a year isn't best taken by number of regrets, so I can't say for sure that I'd like to have less next year [and this is far from comprehensive]. I would like them to be different.