In case you missed the headline, I’m crowdsourcing my New Year’s Resolutions for 2018. Because who knows better than you? No-bah-dee. I’m in such deep denial about my faults that I’m not going to be any help at all. I’m just staring at a blank paper here.
Besides, the old way of doing resolutions doesn’t work. We’ve all been there. The calendar year turns and it’s time to make our big New Year’s Resolution. Or Resolution(s) if we’re feeling particularly ambitious — or covering our bases in the event of, you know, not bothering. Often people pick one big thing, for instance, “Lose Ten Pounds,” or “Spend Less Time on Social Media.”
The whole concept never takes hold. By late January there’s broken resolutions scattered everywhere. Collectively, across the country, we’re unresolved.
Because there’s too much pressure on that one big resolution. The success of an entire year rises or falls on that single thing. Did you learn how to macrame? Did you read more “serious novels”? Did you give up wheat? (You never even tried, did you?) Twelve months later you look back and it’s an “epic fail” because of course you didn’t lose those last ten pounds, nobody dreamed you would, in fact you packed on six more. Oh well.
I’ve come to believe that it’s much better to spread our the burden of resolutions as if they came in a large tub of room-temperature margarine. I’m not talking about a tub of ten solutions. Or even twenty. I’m talking about a very, very large tub.
I’m announcing my intention of having 1,000 resolutions in place and fully documented by midnight, December 31st. In fact, while typing this I thought of my first resolution:
1) Never again say or type “epic fail.” In fact:
2) Never say or type “epic” anything. That word sucks now.
See? I need only 998 more resolutions.
3) Read at least one poem a day.
4) Don’t get my hopes up. Across the board. Just. Don’t.
Now here’s where you come in. I need only 996 more resolutions.
Oh, wait, again:
5) Don’t believe any swimmer when he or she tells me the water is “refreshing.” That person with blue lips is a liar. Don’t get fooled again!
6) Say “namaste” at least once this year and actually believe it instead of, you know, faking it. I think it has something to do with a light.
7) Enough already with the IPAs.
8) Help more with housework.
8A) Ask Lisa where she keeps the broom.
8B) Do we own a broom?
8C) Buy Lisa a broom for her birthday.
9) Boo somebody, anybody, but not an athlete. Ideas: baristas, politicians, family members, random strangers, the plumber, etc. Really let ’em have it.
10) Write Bill McKibbon a fan letter.
11) If it doesn’t look delicious, don’t eat it. Tasting things that look horrible is not open-minded, it’s overrated. Trust my eyes.
12) Tell Paul what I really, really think about him. Truth to power!
13) Get other people to finish my lists.
Okay, I need 987 more.
Got any suggestions?
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