In elementary school I always had difficulty remembering which year it was. On each assignment that required a date, one could often find a scribbled number that hid my embarrassment. 2006 and onwards became 200X, where X can be any number between 0 and 9. 2005 and below lurked around in the 1990s, fitting for a decade of gelled hair, boy bands, and the creation of Nunavut.
If I were a psychologist, I’d guess this indifference to one year or another was because I always hated new years. To me, they seemed an arbitrary date of importance decided by nothing more than the Earth’s helical axis, an Earth, mind you, that would keep spinning with or without our champagne, party hats, and countdowns.
Perhaps we realize this insignificance, and that is why more often than not New Years is spent bamboozled enough to forget the last year. We poison ourselves in the hopes of happiness. All the failures and regrets, the sadness and unresolved depression are washed in party plans and alcohol. Our insecurities drown, and for a brief moment, we feel happy with a bottle for a baby in our hand.
Then when the morning comes, and the day shambles itself together, we need to come up with aspirations for, well, ourselves. I did this below with the weight of responsibility after a night that was anything but responsible. It is, of course, satirical because nothing is quite as funny as oneself and the goals they set and set again.
It’s happening again.
It really just sneaked up on me. One moment it’s one year and then the next – poof, it’s gone like that, and I’m diving head first into one drink then another, and I kiss a girl, and I start to feel woozy, and my stomach celebrates the New year with its own colourful pyrotechnics.
I didn’t have time to plan is what I’m saying. But hey, that’s okay. There’s still time, right? January 8th isn’t a bad time for resolutions. Better late than never, someone once said. I wonder if they thought about the implications of that statement. I mean – I’d rather never be sick than be late to get the bubonic plague. But maybe I’m just picky. The bubonic plague was all the rage in the Dark Ages, and doesn’t fashion have a way of coming back?
But anyways: resolutions. Well, the first one is easy: come up with new years resolutions.
Boom, just like that – I’ve already completed one. I’m on fire. As it were, it’s so easy to complete your goals when you have none.
Maybe I should take a break? All this success is tiring me out. Yes – a break will do me well. It’ll give me energy to combat this oncoming annum.
And besides if I’m using words like annum instead of year, I must be confused because I’m tired and tired because I’m confused. Does that make sense? I’m not sure. I guess that just proves how tired and confused I am. Sleep will settle everything.
I’m awake and I’m feeling groggy. Nothing is better. At least this page is still here. So what’s next? Ah yes. Writing. Need to do more of that. Don’t I want to pen the sentence that has never been penned before? Maybe something like purple hippos are the unsung heroes of Canada or “Hey, you should eat more McDonalds because it’s good for you” or I promise I’ll go to sleep tonight before 2 am tonight.
Well, look at that – those sentences exist now and I wrote them. Another new years resolution finished. I shouldn’t have worried. These are coming easily now. Maybe I can do with another nap?
How about that: let’s make a third resolution to sleep more. I mean – I am tired from the previous nap. I need a rest from the rest. Please wait as I accomplish this resolution too.
Done. Now, a fourth? Workout. Wait a second. Last year I wished for something similar and that didn’t work out, if you mind the pun, so well. Maybe I should say, “Work out some more.” That’s a good qualifier.
Wait… I used that one two years ago as well, and again, not my finest failure. Besides it implies I already work out and let’s not lie to ourselves this early in the year. Fine. How about “Get less fat.” That’s something I can stand behind, if of course, I can still see my behind by the end of the year.
I’ll admit that these lofty ambitions need specifics. Generalities hide the responsibilities of each independent goal. Therefore this year I’m going make sure that every day I wake up, shave, shower, eat breakfast, drive, work, study, read, drive back home, eat again, work, study, read, go to sleep, repeat.
There – my days have now been planned for the rest of my life. And better yet, I have resolution after resolution after resolution lurking in daily existence.
Next: do stuff. This might be contradictory to the specifics required in the daily ritual resolution – note: add don’t contradict oneself to list – but anything I write can be reduced down and qualified. I’ll have to stipulate endlessly. So doing stuff allows me to accomplish my goals without knowing I accomplished my goals. And hey, I’m already reaping in the rewards. I’m completing this post. I’m breathing. I’m doing stuff.
Last but not least, know when enough is enough. Some stuff is too much and some stuff is too little, and other times, some stuff is just some stuff. This year, there’ll be a lot of stuff coming my way, stuff both good and bad that I’ll be unable to prepare for no matter how foolish or grand or intricate my goals may be. Against a million upon million of variables beyond my control, all I can do is start what I want to do, this post for example, and end it when I need to, right now for example.