3 Down, 362 To Go

As the closing of another calendar year is over-celebrated with sloshing champagne toasts and multi-colored confetti showers that some poor soul will have the displeasure of sweeping up as the sun rises on a brand new year, I am mentally preparing myself for the onslaught of New Year’s resolution promises and proclamations that will be declared (mostly to no avail) in the next week. And, while it is safe to say that I have never been a fan of “starting over on Monday” or “making the new year my year,” as we get older the idea of a new day or even the start of a new year dictating perfect behavior is even more ridiculous. The vices we adopt as lifestyle habits in our twenties are hard as hell to break and the tick of a clock or the flip of a page in your datebook is not going to motivate you to do so. Sorry to be the Debbie-Downer-Sad-Sally-Negative-Nancy-type (notice how all these names denoting undesirable emotions belong to women… topic for another day, I suppose), but the new year ringing in a whole new you is a phrase I wish was archived in the glory days of 2012 along with the South Korean dance sensation Gangnam Style and the hoopla surrounding the poorly written and not-so-envelope-pushing mommy porn that was 50 Shades of Grey.

A few nights ago, after adequately ringing in my new year,  I emerged out of a smokey downtown club in Manhattan’s East Village and was met with frigid temperatures and the refreshing sight of those that threw back one shot too many vomiting into dirty, metal trashcans surrounded by friends looking on with vague disgust and intense amusement (even though they will be in that position, perhaps in as little as the next city block). This is what the new year should be about—friends reveling in each other’s vodka consumption, and loud music wafting out of over-crowded bars and into the seriously cold night air. Cabs were being stolen from fellow party-goers and cars were almost hitting bikers who were almost hitting pedestrians. All was right with the shiny fresh world in the first hours of the new year. As I looked around, I thanked New York City for ignoring the pressure to start 2013 off on the right foot, and to continue to live in a world where cab-snagging and curbside spewing is acceptable behavior. Then, after much arm flailing I got a cab of my own. 

It was clear that sitting back and enjoying the ride was not going to be an option during this particular drive up 1st avenue, for it was taxi cab confessional time, and I was playing the part of the interested listener. It turns out that, Ali Aljazar—let’s just get it straight here that I am not being a raging racist, but am reporting the facts—made it his resolution to quit puffing on cigarettes and felt inclined to use our 79 blocks together to share with me the gritty details. It was clear his iron-clad resolution that was made precisely at midnight was already cracking by 3:10 a.m. He was worried about drinking his coffee when daylight broke since he usually paired his cup of Joe with a few slender ciggys, a habit decades in the making. It has been 80 hours since I paid for my yellow taxi on New Year's Eve, and while I hope for the sake of Ali’s lungs that he has been able to stick to his personal challenge, I have a slight feeling that our story’s protagonist has struggled, given-in, purchased a pack of smokes, and inhaled the sweet, sweet addiction once again. But hey, there’s always 2014. I’m sure the next 365 of chain-smoking won’t make it that much harder to quit next year. It will be next year's resolution he finally sticks to, after all.

Now, I’m not saying that resolutions are full-proof experiments in failure. If you truly feel as though this is going to be the 12-months in which you shed those 60-plus pounds or live up to your January 1st promise of giving everyone a fair chance, then I say go for it. But, please do me the self-satisfying pleasure of reporting back by Jan 15th. I’m sure within those 15 days you haven’t consumed one calorie-infused cookie or pre-judged anyone at your new gym… but just in case you have, I’d really like to know about it. 

So, here I sit, in all my non-resolution glory. It’s not that I don’t have motivational goals or googly-eyed dreams, in fact I am working towards some of those right now. I just don’t need to put all of the make-it-or-break-it pressure on myself because someone somewhere will inevitably ask me about my aspirations for the new year. The build-up of sticking to a year-long purpose is a sure-fire way to plunge into resolution regret by next Saturday. Most of you probably think that inserting some positivity into my writing, for example, would be a fresh way to approach these next 365 days. To those dear readers, I would suggest making a resolution that includes removing the rose-colored glasses off your pretty little faces so you can experience the world with a little dose of reality. Or, perhaps, your resolution could be to start writing a contradictory blog about the terrific twenties, in which you will entertain no one but your very own mother. But, I digress.

I hope you all really do enjoy a year of happy times and hard-fought health, just spare me the steps in which you are going to take to make this happen. We’ve all got our super-secret daily resolutions, but keep them inside and do it for yourself, because it is a proven fact that no one else cares that you are trying to slice your sugary drink intake or are attempting to cut the cow from your life by making Mondays meatless. Read my words carefully, status updaters, tweeters, and fellow blognerds – no.one.cares. Some people are really good at pretending, but while you babble on about two-day-old motivation and being in a different mindset this time around, your "listener" is forming a mental grocery list and wishing you would actually just button it.

If anyone is still a beacon of perfection as we usher in 2014, I applaud you. I virtually stand up, clap my hands together and give you a double thumbs-up for rising to the challenge (now learning to clap and give a double thumbs-up at the same time could be a resolution I’d be interested in) . But, I bet it was torture. A form of torture most of us just don’t have the stubbornness to put up with for an entire year. January through December is a lengthy stretch of time, time that I would like to enjoy rather than hope will pass with speed and ease. I bet next year you resolve to end the recurrence of resolutions.

Now that you all feel the need to prove me wrong, and are currently strapping on your running shoes to begin your adventure into 2013, I would like to present you with a serious cliché. Please look past the cheesiness of using song lyrics as adequate summation, and bear with me. In fact, this would be a great time to start “tolerating others” and “being nicer to those around you.” In an expertly written one-liner, singer-songwriter Corey Smith gives us this, “Maybe next year I’ll start acting my age, turn a new leaf over my wicked ways.” He goes on to say that he now has 365 days to change his ways, just like the rest of you promise-breakers, er, I mean makers. Although, he sings his song with an insane amount of wit and sarcasm (focus in here, the song’s actual message is that no one can change their ways), maybe you will be the one to do it! Maybe not next year, but this year!

But, because things might occur that throw some wrenches in this year’s quest for perfection, always remember that in a mere winter, spring, summer and fall you can try again. You know what… I’m thinking 2014 will actually be your year to get this resolution-thing going. For now, meet me at the pizza place with a pack of Marlboro Lights and an attitude that is ready to judge all those around us. Yup, 2014 is sure to be your year, and I resolve to help make that happen.