I don’t know about you, but I’m not a fan of New Year’s Resolutions. It seems somehow cruel and unusual punishment to start a brand spanking new year with a lot of baggage already strapped on my back, expectations of how I should behave and things I should do and goals I have to work toward. I mean, really, it’s the first freaking day of the new year. I kinda would like to break it in a little, like new shoes, get the feel of it, decide whether or not it fits right or if it needs some soft padding or maybe to be exchanged for the comfy tennis shoes. Or something. [I just spent six hours playing with the g-kid. I have no brain cells left. Pretend that metaphor worked. Thank you.]
What I do like to do on my birthday, though, is reflect on aspects of my life that I see need improving. When I hear a description of me from someone that doesn’t fit, I won’t worry about it. But if I hear it three or four times, from different sources, then it pings, hard, and I force myself to take a steely-eyed assessment and see if it’s something that can be improved, and if I want to improve it, and if the answer to both of those is ‘yes’–then I work on how to accomplish that improvement. [Sometimes, I’ll hear the description and realize that it’s probably a flaw, but it’s a flaw I’m not gonna change, so screw it, because I’m comfortable with it. That’s the absolutely wonderful joy of getting older–you get more comfortable in your own skin, you have people who love you the way you are and you aren’t chasing some vague notion of who you might be when you grow up. I pretty much love the age I am, which is 48.]
One of the great advantages of the above plan is that my birthday is in the middle of the year, so I get to feel like I’m playing hooky from actual resolutions for the first half of the year. I reflect on the birthday, put some things into motion and usually have either accomplished those things or have gotten them incorporated into my life enough that I feel like they’re going to be successfully integrated, and by the time New Year’s rolls around, I’m relaxed about the whole “goals” thing. But in honor of the impending New Year approaching this weekend, I decided that I would give great thought to what my resolutions would be, if I were to make resolutions, and I realized that I had things I would resolve not to do. Herewith, therefore, is the list:
- NOT TO become Supreme Commander of the Universe. I know, I know, there was a write in vote and everything, but after my hand cramped after much consideration, I realize that maybe the fact that I still cannot organize my pantry well enough to not have things in there that expired back when my oldest son was eight indicates that I shouldn’t be organizing anything on a global scale.
- NOT TO eat the chocolate I find in the back of the kids’ closet if it’s older than eight… er… ten… er… fifteen years. Okay, eighteen, but that’s my final offer.
- NOT TO hand the next passive aggressive bully their ass on a plate, even if they’ve baited me, even if they’ve drawn a big honking mofo target on their ass and wiggled it in public. I will rise above. I will be Zen, people, even if it kills me.
- NOT TO fling buggers at said person. But I’ll think about it.
- NOT TO become an astronaut, a physicist, or Angelina Jolie’s new BFF. (Well, I had to at least include one item that I could accomplish. I’m nothing, if not efficient.)
Okay, your turn.
Since I won’t be posting again until after the first, I hope you all have a really happy New Year’s!
(And don’t forget the e-reader contest I’m sponsoring to celebrate Allison’s new release this week of LOVE ME TO DEATH — for a shot at a free Kindle or Color Nook, check out the blog from Tuesday to see the rules and go tweet!)