It takes me an inordinate amount of time to make resolutions, mostly because I make resolutions every.single.day so they’re kind of all used up when January 1st rolls around. I’m a natural-born goal-setter, dream-keeper, think-abouter, and I take pride in starting over near-daily, hitting the reset button on my life like a lamp that needs re-wiring. Here’s me:
I need to start drinking more juices. Ken’s always blending juices, and I keep hearing the word ‘detox,’ which sounds fantastic in theory. I’m going to the store to buy juice things. What goes in juice? Fruit and… more fruit? Googling. OK, I need ice, veggies, avocado. Fruit. OK, this sounds doable. Store. Now. I’m on it.
And I am. And then I decide to quit, because I second-guess the reason I started, like I didn’t do it for the right reasons. I shouldn’t juice just because Ken juices, I should want to juice. In fact, I should want to want to juice, but instead I want to want to go to Chik-fil-a again.
And then I’m in the drive-thru, patting myself on the back for bucking peer pressure, even if it’s the good kind. It makes absolute no sense, but it means I’m an incredible justifier. I can find any reason to quit things. “I’m sorry, I can’t play the flute because I don’t want to take more than my fair share of everyone else’s air and then blow it out through this metal instrument that has all kinds of my germs all over it. I’m a saint, I don’t taint.”
No sense. No sense over here.
I don’t make resolutions. Resolutions just kind of find me. That’s what happens when you’re semi-flighty. You’re just kind of out there, floating through in your own headspace and – bam – you run into a big glass windowpane of a resolution like a feathered bird mid-flight to nowhere and everywhere all at the same time.
Here are mine. They’ll change next week (next hour), but as it stands, in this moment of history:
1. Want to want to juice.
I cannot figure out why I don’t want to want to juice (or even want to juice, really). I mean, we get an inordinate amount of produce delivered bi-monthly. RIGHT TO OUR DOOR. And then I put it away in the fridge crisper, and it’s almost mocking me, like “We’re never going to see your face again, because we only have a relationship with your husband. We like him better. We all talk about you when you excuse yourself from the fridge.”
Editor Epiphany: I know why I don’t want to want to juice. The blender’s blades are so darn intimidating to clean. I’m going to want to want to get over that, starting soon. (Perhaps.)
2. Go to yoga.
I’m going to justify this one later for sure.
3. Put on my blinders, and then take them off, but put them back on again.
I had to make a really big work decision this month, and with my blinders on, it was pretty obvious what I needed to do – for myself. But then I took my blinders off and the distraction hit and everything looked really shiny and fantastic and suddenly I was thinking I should totally run off course and join the herd of other race horses following their paths. So I smacked myself, put my blinders back on and then I made the decision while looking at my own course, blinders on, head down. It feels good in my gut, and was a proper reminder to keep my head down and get to work. Running toward goals requires blinders, and playing in fields doesn’t. They’re both necessary, to put on and take off, but I need to remind myself when it’s an appropriate circumstance for each.
4. Read the news.
Here’s an area where I should not be wearing my blinders. Listen, I hate reading the news. It permeates my skin and I feel powerless, because it’s like reading a marquee sign that spotlights everything wrong in the world (sometimes). But hey, marquee signs change all the time. But we can’t change them if we don’t know what’s playing, or what act should play next, or just how to get that grand act into town.
Here’s what I won’t be reading (blinders on!): pop culture. Nothing confuses me more than pop culture, so I won’t be spending my time deciphering the nonsense. Here’s what I will be reading (blinders off!): news. Preferably of the Dave Pell variety.
5. More singing.
I’m the sort of singer that is banned from Karaoke forever, because I sing loud and not only off-key, but I also sometimes string out notes that shouldn’t be there and it all blends together and then suddenly I’ve made up a song that doesn’t exist. So really, I’m a musical genius, one that is completely misunderstood. I’m basically Billy Joel.
But whatever. I’m singing anyway, because my daughter loves it and will soon hate it, and it also makes me laugh. And the only thing better than a dance party in the kitchen is a dance party in the kitchen while singing songs that aren’t supposed to sound anything like how the noises I’m making.
6. Ask questions.
I was a really compliant kid growing up, one that didn’t speak until spoken to and one that didn’t like to ask questions that might perhaps stir the pot. I’m still this way, and I’ve found that it prevents learning a lot of cool things, like why we think and act and say the things we think, act and say. I’m also finally going to ask someone to explain the whole Pluto debacle to me, because I still cannot at all wrap my head around that.
7. Enjoy being a grown-up.
Being a grown-up is kind of a marathon, and sometimes I get super tired of it and just want someone to draw me a bath and feed me dinner, then read me a book and turn out the lights. But then I realize that being a grown-up means I can eat gummy worms for dinner if I want to, and I can wear whatever I want and can cut my own hair and run with scissors and light matches and catch a midnight flick. I’m going to do all of these this year, and I’m going to enjoy being a grown-up and show my daughter that it’s a really great thing to get old. It’s a really great thing.
8. Edit my closet.
I actually really need professional help with this one (who’s in?), because my gosh, it’s out of control. I have visions of Edited Erin, where she has nothing more than a simple daily uniform and a closet with like, 10 hangers and some great denim. I just need the rest to leave, but then I hate the idea of a personality-less wardrobe. I’m going to figure this one out for sure (and then justify it later, but then I’m going to really, really do it, seriously for real this time, no jokes).
I’m sure there’s more. But my favorite song just came on the radio, and I need to refill my coffee and remind two people in this house how much I love them. (That’s a resolution that’s never too hard to keep.)
Happy 2014, friends. What are your resolutions? Spill it – it’s only fair.
p.s. I also make anti-resolutions each year, and this time, the Clementine Daily staff joined me in sharing theirs. It’s a good read (here).