In the 5th grade I decided that resolutions were a ‘crutch for the weak’. I think I’d heard someone misquoting Marx or something (the silly kind of Marx, not the Harpo kind). I just remember thinking, ‘Why do adults always need a catalyst for changing their rotten habits?”
I doubt I used the word catalyst, but I am, after all, paraphrasing my much, much younger self in such a way as to make me sound like a smartie-pants.
I was also, apparently, feeling quite full of myself as I was all like, ‘Nothing wrong with me. What would I ever need to change?”
Granted, this was coming from a kid who wore his Baltimore Orioles helmet to school every day. That’s a true story. I didn’t wear hats on the playground; instead, I wore my baseball helmet. I thought it was awesome. In retrospect, that fashion move cost me a lot of potential friends. But, you know, most of those kids grew up to be pretty lame anyway–which brings me great joy.
So, to this day, I’ve never made a resolution except the resolution I thought I was counter-culturally making when I was 10, which was to never make a resolution.
I realize it’s something of paradox I’ve created for myself, but I’m good with it. What I do like to do, however, as a ritual, is to treat myself to some last second gifts (you know, to celebrate the end of the year). This year, I am going to order for myself Flannery O’Connor: The Cartoons, hole up, and wait patiently for its arrival while enjoying Knob Creek to the lovely sounds of Hot Water Music, Off With Their Heads, and Regina Specktor.
Thus far, this plan has been stellar.