I used to be a New Year's resolution cynic. Admittedly, I'm still wary of the notion that pinning up a new Cats of Cuyahoga calendar can inspire the necessary ambition to tackle all the things we should've done back in September, but after accumulating some years I've come to appreciate the tabula rasa feeling that comes around every December 31. There's an undeniable magic in having more days in the year ahead of you than behind-having some fresh but familiar terrain upon which to bravely march into the great to be determined. Every year passes by more quickly than the last, so while a younger me scoffed at the farce of New Year's resolutions, now I'm willing to give them the benefit of the doubt. Even if time is meaningless and the final countdown to a new year is essentially final call for procrastinators, it's nice to conclude each calendar year with a sense of boozy closure and optimism for the next year to come.
There are still a few outstanding resolutions of mine from last year that I've yet to accomplish, and even though I'm not giving up on those any time soon, there are still a lot of things I want to do this year. I've no expectation that this will be "my year," because I'm not even really sure what that means. Do I lick 2016 so no one else will want it? Kidnap it and lock it up in my basement, perhaps? I digress. I wanted to share a few of my resolutions, because I think we could all use the reminder that it's not too late to take on something big, to be happier, or simply to change. Maybe instead of it being "your" year or "my" year, it could just be our year, and when it's all over again we can crowd behind a selfie stick with our party hats on and take a blurry picture to celebrate.
A few of my resolutions, in no particular order:
- Stop caring about what people think. This year, I want to approach my decision-making with the same exuberance of a person who walks into a crowded public restroom and unleashes hell without thinking twice.
- Take more chances. Fear is my biggest deterrent: fear of embarrassment, fear of failure, fear of farting. This year I want to do more overwhelming, impossible-seeming, scary things.
- Stop trying to understand other people's thought processes. The more time you spend trying to figure out why or how someone thinks the weird, insane, illogical, ridiculous thoughts that they do, the less time you have to think about what you're going to eat next.
- Drink more water. Sometimes I just forget to consume liquids, and it's something I'd like to change about myself.
- Stop doing the weird stomach puff out in the mirror. If you've ever been dissatisfied with your body's appearance you've probably done this thing where you look at your belly in the mirror and act like you're exhaling, but really you're blowing your stomach out so you look like a developing toddler, and then you use this empirical evidence as proof that your body is disgusting. Let's all stop doing that.
- Let annoying strangers live. Think of an episode when you got irrational angry at a random human being you'll never see again just because he or she mildly inconvenienced you in some way. Remember how you thought about punching their ear Fight Club style? That's not healthy.
- Stop reading so many comments. If the Internet is The Lion King, comment threads are The Outlands. The light does not touch them. It's only Scar, exiled lions, hyenas, and a rational thought graveyard there. If you go to the comment thread hoping for an interesting exchange of ideas, nine times out of ten, you've gone to the wrong place.
- Be more considerate of your mom. Even if it just means stifling an eye roll the next time she asks how to turn off airplane mode on her phone.
- Stop being generous to the oblivious. Some people are incapable of appreciating thoughtful things. Stop wasting your time, energy, and money going above and beyond for these folks. They don't appreciate it, and it won't ever occur to them to pay it forward.
- Apologize less. This is for all of us who say, "Oops, sorry," so much we've apologized to inanimate objects out of habit. There's no glory in being an accountability hog. Stop seeking out blame that rightfully belongs to someone else.
Katie Hoffman is a writer living in the suburbs of Chicago. You can follow her on Twitter and Instagram @bykatiehoffman.
