More New Year’s Resolutions I’m Sure Not to Keep

New Years Resolutions I’m Sure Not to Keep

Well, here we are, a full week into 2021, and so far at least, it has sucked less than 2020. Admittedly that is one hell of a low bar of expectations, but right about now, we will all take it. I’m not sure where you were as the ball dropped last Thursday evening to a somewhat smaller throng than when I crowdsurfed through the Times Square madness a couple of decades ago, but as the waning moments of 2020 flittered away, the dog and I were hanging out in my living room when I heard the audible groan of the collective global populace bidding adieu to one of the downright shittiest years in recent memory. Ok, maybe that was just my neighbor setting off fireworks he brought back from his business trip to Wyoming, but a year that killed off Ruth Bader Ginsburg and Alex Trebek but somehow left pill-popping, cigar-smoking Rush Limbaugh still standing definitely sucks no matter how you look at it.

Sure, we are all apprehensively peering around the corner into 2021 with ebony-colored glasses, but there is something symbolically revitalizing about a new year. It is a time to blithely forget all about the unthinkable crap that has happened over the past year and bound optimistically into the equally unthinkable crap that will probably happen to you once again this coming year. But hey, at least we have hope. And isn’t that what New Year’s resolutions are all about?

Each January, we think back upon the past year and contemplate all the things we would like to change about our lives. And then, with unbridled buoyancy we pledge faithfully to enact that change. We will go to the gym more. We will eat healthier. We will stop fondling our neighbor’s cat. All good changes to be sure. In fact, an estimated 188.9 million adult Americans (74.02% of the population) will make some sort of resolution this year.

But keeping them? Yeah, that’s another matter altogether. We are, after all, Americans, and resolutions, are, well, hard, and let’s face it- we just don’t want to. Research shows that only around 10% will maintain their resolutions for more than a few months and that most will be dropped before January is even over. Yeah, we’re that kind of pathetic. I could sit here right now and swear up and down that I’m not going to make anymore resolutions, that I will finally defy this time-honored tradition and just bag it for 2021, but to be honest, we all know I won’t keep that resolution anyway. So with that in mind, here are more of my 2021 resolutions I am sure not to keep:

I resolve to no longer engage in inane, masochistic political debates online. From now on, I will only debate my uncle Ernie when we are face to face at Thanksgiving dinner.

I resolve to stop losing my everlasting mind at the willful ignorance and selfishness of people who refuse to wear masks at public. I will also refrain from furtively wishing for them to get Covid and be forced to make their tragic recantation of Covid denial through the gurgling sounds of a ventilator.

I resolve to drink more water. Of course it may be tonic water and I may be mixing it with gin, but hey, how else am I supposed to homeschool my kids?

I resolve to stop wishing ill will upon famed YouTuber Jake Paul and simply accept the inevitability that he will shamelessly and irreparably damage my son’s work ethic and non-douchebagness.

Please make it stop…

I resolve to stop telling my kids the same stories over and over again. You know you’ve been trapped in a house with the same people for far too long when they start watching Tiger King just to get out of listening to you anymore.

I resolve to stop believing that the Denver Broncos are just one draft pick away from getting back to the playoffs. They suck, and denying that reality doesn’t make it any less true.

I resolve to find appreciation and gratitude in each and every moment, even in years ending in -20.

I resolve to not lose my shit when talking to conspiracy theorists and Qanon supporters. Instead, I will practice compassionate listening and patiently allow them to explain all of the mind-blowing postulations they heard in a YouTube video, even though they have more holes in them than a sweater in a moth-laden closet. Following my spiritual practice of mindfulness and engagement, I will foster validation by genuinely hearing them. And then I will get up and beat the absolute stupid out of them.

I resolve not to spend my entire $600 stimulus check in one place. Unless it’s on rent. Or my car payment. Or my credit card bill. Or my college loan debt. Or a 10-minute blowjob from a hooker.

I resolve to stop looking up grossly inappropriate and highly disconcerting things on the internet just because I can. Seriously, at this point, if the FBI did seize my personal laptop for some sort of criminal investigation, even the seasoned veterans in the room would get squeamish when scrolling through my Google search history, leaving them shaking their heads in jaded disbelief and muttering, “That is one twisted fuck.”

I resolve to stop calling Mitch McConnell’s office and asking if I can speak with Yurtle the Turtle.

And finally, I resolve to actually adhere to my self-imposed thousand word limit. And for one week at least, I will actually keep that one.

Steven Craig is the author of the best-selling novel WAITING FOR TODAY, as well as numerous published poems, short stories, and dramatic works. Read his blog TRUTH: In 1000 Words or Less every THURSDAY at www.waitingfortoday.com

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Steven Craig

Steven Craig is the author of the best-selling novel WAITING FOR TODAY. Read his blog TRUTH: IN 1000 WORDS OR LESS on Thursdays at www.waitingfortoday.com