Glitter and Doom

I started the New Year with a champagne hangover and a kitten on my face.  I suppose this isn’t all that different from any other Saturday, so, like any other weekend, I gathered the hungover bumpkins I found in my living room and we headed off to a dive diner at 3pm for breakfast. 

By the time we had all consumed enough coffee to engage in human conversation rather than just grunts and shrugs, talk turned to resolutions.  Well, not really.  What we really discussed first was what we were all going to do that day, but as this conversation mostly just consisted of intentions to lie in bed, watch movies, and play with puppies, we can skip over that.  Then there was the quick conversation about resolutions that seems to happen every year. 

I, for one, think resolutions are crap.  Consequently, I tend to hang out with like-minded individuals who make no promises to join a gym or grow a garden.  Now this is not to say that I have lazy or uninspired friends (nor to imply that I myself fit such generalizations).  It’s quite the opposite actually. 

I make resolutions all of the time.  Not that I would ever call them that, but that’s exactly what they are. When I decide that I’m going to start doing yoga with Cat once a week (which lasted about two months). Or that I’m going to read at least one book for pleasure on top of my schoolwork.  Possibly that I’m going to write every day.  Or that I need to cook more, even if it’s throwing some crap in a Crockpot.  Whatever, I come up with new things to put on my to-do list daily.  These are everyday promises made on rogue Tuesdays in July.  Thoughts that come up while wandering the Square on a Sunday in November. 

This is not to imply that I am in some way perfect or actualized in any way, quite the opposite.  I’m messy, disorganized, occasionally unhealthy, prone to disco nap with my kitten, and the borderline weekend alcoholic that any good, single twentysomething in Chicago is.  But I embrace it.  I refuse to think that self-improvement is limited to certain times of year and I will go out of my way to avoid such empty promises because lying to yourself is a huge waste of time.  Lie to other people.*

I would like to say that I was this articulate while discussing resolutions with my friends, but it’s more likely that I said something demeaning about people who are athletic and shoved some eggs into my mouth.  It’s okay, I’ll tell them next year.

*Like your parents who call you on Saturday “mornings” at 1:30pm and say “you sound sick” when it’s clear you’re just sleeping.