I am tired. I stayed up too late. For some reason I couldn’t pull my attention away from the train wreck that was Stacy “Two-Face” Fergie Ferguson and whatever show it was that she was joltingly hosting. Sloshing quickly between poses. Resembling video game animations from eight years ago. Always turning to the profile to remind the world she wasn’t wearing pants. Perhaps that meat suit just wasn’t fitting the buggy alien correctly. Either way, I hated every god damn second of it until I picked up my phone and got on twitter.
It was the first time I had ever done the whole watch something and tweet at the same time. It diverted my attention and filled me with such joy to read that other cantankerous bastards were also hating Fergie and Jenny “I Love Polio” McCarthy. After awhile I started coming across people’s resolutions. I am going to be more happy. I am going to work less. I am going to work out. Devote more time to my kids. Use social media less. Spend less money. Vaccinate.
You get the point. People were putting themselves on the hook to improve themselves. Which is a noble gesture and at the same time it is a great way to get set up for soul crushing failure. Three hundred and sixty five days is a long time. Especially to hold oneself to self-improvement. Resolutions are rigidly worded leaving them brittle. One misstep and the whole thing could shatter. Which leads to a why even continue, why keep trying mentality. By February, resolutions are defeatedly schlepped off to the side and forgotten. Left to be picked up next year or never attempted again.
Relatively speaking, New Year’s is kind of like Monday. Except seemingly everyone – for some reason – seems to love New Year’s. Yet, if each week is treated as a new beginning, one can set smaller, more achievable goals. Also, if someone is being an over spending, kid neglecting, depressed ass hat in July, shouldn’t something be done then? Why wait five months?
In years passed, I half heartedly made resolutions. I failed them all quickly. Until four or five years ago. I came up with a resolution that I have kept making year after year. Each year I succeed. Each year, I think I get a little better. What is that resolution? Don’t die. It is certainly something I don’t want to fail at. I figure, unless I party with Motley Crue, I can only fail once. Every year, when I scream Happy New Year, I know that I have once again succeeded. All I had to do was look both ways when crossing the street and stuff.