Well, a new year is upon us. Gone is the glorious year MMX, replaced instead by the yet to be proven year MMXI. I guess even the calendar has gotten in on the act of slapping an “i” on something to make it seem more futuristic. As is the tradition, many folks have chosen this time of year to make a list of things that they PLAN to do but will never actually get around to, aka “resolutions”. Since I have made it a personal policy to cave randomly to peer pressure, I figure I’ll follow the pack on this one.
Anyone who knows me, or has seen me frequently in the past few years, or reads this website, or drives past that billboard I bought on the turnpike, knows that I lost an awful lot of weight. Yes, I realize I mention it a lot. You gotta spread the word about that sort of thing before the pounds inevitably come piling back on. The reason I bring it up now is because, after dropping 140 lbs, you suddenly find yourself having a hard time coming up with what you are supposed to resolve for this time. I can’t exactly shoot for another 140. I’d be getting down near what I weighed in kindergarten. That’s not a good look for a twenty eight year old. (Unless you are a fashion model, in which case, congratulations on reaching your goal weight, you self destructive bean pole.) As a result, I’m sort of at a loss. I guess I could pledge to quit smoking, except that I don’t smoke, so I’d have to start first, and that seems sort of counterproductive. Ditto for drinking. Possibly I should spend this year acquiring a worthwhile vice, then give it up next year.
In the past, after dropping the tonnage, I aimed low. This year, for example, I resolved to do one pull up, which I did back in July. I jumped a little to achieve it, but screw it, that still counts. The next logical step would be to aim for two pull ups, but that lacks imagination. Besides, making health related resolutions at this point would probably get me lynched by the friends and coworkers that have had considerably less success in that regard than I have had already. Nope, if I’m going to try to achieve anything worthwhile this year, I’m going to have to try for something abstract.
Thus, I have decided that my New Year’s resolution is to become a worthwhile human being. Lofty goal, I know. I think it is a decent resolution, though, because, let’s face it, I don’t really rate high in the humanity index at the moment. (Just look at all of the commas I used in that sentence, for instance.) While I don’t do any of the bad stuff (genocide, holy wars, that sort of thing) and I do at least SOME of the good stuff (eating right, working out, giving blood), I don’t do any of the rest. I’ve never gone to a nightclub, for instance. I don’t drink, and while I do dance, anyone who has seen me do it will agree that it isn’t really suitable for public display. Thus, for me a nightclub visit would boil down to me standing sheepishly at the edge of the dance floor becoming increasingly aware of how irritating people can get when they’re drunk. But society says that’s the sort of thing I should be into, and since I LIVE in society, it is time to start making compromises. Right now, whenever I leave the house it is to either eat, work, see a movie, or buy flaming buffalo style chicken jerky, some hummus, and diet coke. This year I resolve to mix in a dash more social interaction. (And perhaps a dash less hummus. I’m getting complaints about its aftereffects.) I’ll try things that normal people crave and I, thus far, have avoided. Do I WANT to do any of this? NO! But new years resolutions aren’t about doing things you want to do, are they?
So there it is. I’m going to try to grow up. Maybe get my hair cut more than twice a year. Possibly I’ll go buy clothes that fit the new me, rather than traipsing around in clown pants. The way I see it, there’s only one major flaw in this plan. If you resolve to lose weight or quit smoking and fail, no big whoop, business as usual. I’VE essentially given myself a manhood trial. I have got 365 days to achieve some nebulously self-defined level of social adjustment. When MMXII rolls around and I still have the habits of a giant twelve-year-old, it is going to be a smidge harder to look myself in the mirror. But, hey, nothing ventured nothing gained, right?