As the new year swiftly approaches, as does the louder than necessary battle cry, New Year, New Me. Every time I hear it, I want to swallow a cannonball and launch myself into an alternate reality where people don’t celebrate the passing of calendar pages. I hate everything about New Years resolutions and traditions and I typically sleep through the ball drop on television. I see no use in a ball cascading down a pole in a hail of glitter and sparkles, but there is a serious need in my household for an extra few hours of precious, precious sleep.
Also, there is nothing wrong with the old me. Old me is pretty great.
I have absolutely zero animosity toward anyone who enjoys the holiday and all traditions associated with it, though. Good for you people! I sometimes wish I were as motivated as you lot or that I could enjoy myself for a good New Years party and a drink or two with friends as the time passes from one calendar page to another. But, I can’t. It’s just not in my nature. I’m not alone, either. There are others like me. We, the unmotivated, can be found any day of the week hiding behind e-readers, enveloped in unnecessarily loud patterned Snuggies, and standing in line at the closest available takeout place. We usually smell like strong coffee and bourbon, too, because those are the national perfumes of the overtired writer.
Still, as I look at the date in the corner of my laptop, I am filled with anxiety as the ghosts of New Years resolutions past come out to haunt me. I used to participate and proudly claim, via status updates and group conversations, my New Year, New Me plans. Lose weight, drink more water, quit nasty habits, write more, blah blah blah. The problem always is that the ideas sound good, but most of them require a level of work and commitment I can’t stick to, either because I just don’t want to or because I am sometimes a little bit too ambitious.
That isn’t to say that a person shouldn’t be ambitious. Just, maybe come up with a better plan to follow through than I have in the past. Know your motivators, follow through, and write out a workable, flexible plan to succeed. Or don’t. It’s up to you, I guess. A healthy amount of ambition is great, but I didn’t go through with a resolution this year. Instead, I’m just going to call it what it is, a set of workable goals. The most ambitious of which is to establish at least two side hustles and follow them through until I make a decent profit on each. That’s doable and I have an older than dirt motivator.
At some point in the stone age, early people were crawling out of their stick huts and rock caves to trade feathers and pelts, hoping to become the most deer hide adorned Neanderthals this side of the mammoth cave. Though I’m not interested in hides, I would like to be able to fund a few crafty habits. New bookshelves and robot vacuums don’t buy themselves.
I don’t plan on changing anything about myself though. I always try to chose healthier options when I cook or order food in a restaurant, but there is a nasty balance and sometimes cake just happens. More than anything, I just want this year to be more of the same. 2019 was a decent year, albeit somewhat dull. I want 2020 to be filled with good books, good (healthier) food, and more episodes of The Witcher. I want to buy a prom dress with my daughter, plant a small kitchen garden, and play dinosaurs with my two-year old nephew. Everybody’s definition of a good time is different, but that is mine. New year, same me, but with, you know, more cowbell.
Maybe, if you are as unmotivated as I am, the best approach to succeed with your new goals is to write down all of the things you want to have or want to happen in 2020. There’s probably nothing wrong with the old you, either. Maybe the old you just wants more of whatever your version of a good time is.
Happy New Year, Old You.