KNOW WORRIES #8 - "I Resolve to..."

On resolutions and dissolutions and everything between

I’ll be honest. I don’t understand New Year’s resolutions. I mean, I understand them on a practical level, I just think they’re insane. People shouldn’t be asked to do anything in January, let alone commit to one or more sweeping life changes. We’re all broke and exhausted from the holidays and probably sick and very very cold and it still gets dark at 4:30 and you want us to what? Turn our lives around!? Fuck all the way off please. I’m being circled back upon left, right, and center, and frankly, I don’t need that extra stress right now. Hit me up in October.

January isn’t for resolutions. It’s for dissolutions. It’s for melting into a pile of post-holiday goo and staining the carpet with your own unique blend of leftover Christmas glitter and New Year’s cynicism. And sure, nobody wants a stain on their carpet, but during January, nobody wants to clean it up either, so you’re good to go for at least a few months. Maybe they’ll leave you there for so long that you become part of the family and they just start referring to you as “the stain.” Maybe they’ll even move a plant on top of you. Actually, that sounds kind of cozy, doesn’t it? Nice and quiet. Unbothered. Somebody slap a Ficus on what’s left of me and we’ll call it a month.

My point is that January is no time to be making promises. In fact, you shouldn’t be talking to the year at all during January. That’s what lawyers are for. I’ve seen enough gruesome true crime docuseries to know the deal. Talking to the year when you’re at your weakest and most terrified is exactly what they want. Sure, they’ll make you feel good about it. They’ll tell you this is your one chance to turn things around. They’ll tell you this is what your family would want. That this is how you better yourself. And they might be correct, but the very worst thing you can do is let them know that you know that. So lawyer up.

It's just unnatural. It’s not in our DNA, and that’s why so many New Year’s resolutions fail. We’re fighting tens of thousands of years of behavioral conditioning here and no amount of inspirational Instagram reels are gonna change that. Do you think our ancestors were walking around their village in the dead of winter like “New year, new Grog!” Of course they weren’t. They were starving to death and wearing some other creature’s skin to stave off frostbite and burying a different child every other week. They were not thinking “Maybe I should sign up for Duolingo” while picking out their first Hellofresh order for the year.

I mean, that’s what spring is for, isn’t it? Growth and rebirth? A fresh start? Beautiful weather and adorable baby animals? Let’s face it, it’s all in the presentation, and January has all the charm of a Hoth truckstop or a Deetz family dining room table centerpiece. But blast me with some May sunshine and give me something fuzzy to hold? Now, we’re talking. Now, I’m buying gym memberships. Now, I’m buying new notebooks. Now, I’m committed to tearing down the establishment one bloody brick at a time, so help me God. Sorry, that must be the Claritin talking.

So yes, New Year’s resolutions are a ridiculous and deeply flawed concept, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t a thing. And that doesn’t mean you won’t be pressured to make them. Which is why there’s always…

1. Revenge. That’s right, nobody said resolutions had to be constructive. You wanna talk about something that’ll keep you warm through the worst of what winter has to offer? The lust for vengeance is a relatively inexpensive and a completely sustainable fuel. It’s the new zest for life, and the best part is you can do it anywhere! At home, at work, even while you’re driving! Actually, it’s probably gonna be mostly while you’re driving. I know that sounds like a tall order, but through spite, anything is possible.

So, go ahead. Pick up the fabled blade of your ancestors. Feel the weight of it in your hands. Call your bannermen and make for the wastelands. Fight like a demon and vanquish anyone who tries to stand in the way of that which was foretold. We ride at dawn! Well, not dawn. We have a little coffee and then do wordle and connections at dawn. Then we take a really long hot shower and then we sit on the edge of the bed for like conservatively 45 minutes just trying to get used to the day. Then maybe we can talk about a ride idk.

2. Change your eating habits. Stop me if you’ve heard this one before. Now, this might be the most common resolution of them all. Everyone wants to be healthier. Everyone wants to be in better shape. Everyone wants to spend less money or eat fresher food. But not me. Not in January. I need my comfort food and I need it now, and I’m sorry but I am not half-assing any of it with any alternative ingredients. So, how do I eat the food that gives me the happy brain tingles while still changing my eating habits?

Try having dinner in the garage one night. Who knows, might be fun! The warmth and love of a home-cooked meal against the brutalist design of the place where you keep your empty amazon boxes. Post-modern dining at its finest. And if that doesn’t do the trick, you can always eat your pizza with a fork or go ‘milk first, cereal second’ in the morning. The point is you wanna be able to tell people you’ve started eating differently without having to lie about it. Folks, you either work January, or January works you. There is no in between.

3. Make more art. Easy, right? All you need is time and space and support and creative license and money and inspiration from the muses and assurance from everyone in your life that they’re not mad at you. Oh, and trauma. And imposter’s syndrome. And lots of self-loathing. And intense disillusionment. And crippling insecurities. And somehow also a titanic and unimpeachable ego. And maybe a beret or something. That’s really all you need.

But in all seriousness, the world needs your art now more than ever. We need your laughter and your tears. Your failures and your triumphs. Your hopes and your fears and your colors and your greys. The world hinges on these things. You have to push forward. Keep your heart open and your palate full and your mind trained on what feels important to you, and above all else, don’t ever stop. Except for you Doug. Like, it’s enough already. Seriously.

4. Dry January. Okay, so I was floored when I found out ‘dry January’ was about abstaining from alcohol rather than something humor related. You mean nobody cares about my 30-day commitment to being wry and acerbic? You want me to what? Not drink? In January!? Like okay, talk to me during literally any other month and maybe we can work something out…but January!? Look, I’m not even comfortable meeting a person unless I’ve had two drinks, and now you want me to meet an entire year while I’m completely sober? What are we gonna talk about? How much we both hate 2024? Actually…

We should really strive to be dry all year round. The hard truth is that too much vermouth ruins a martini, which is why you want them as dry as possible. You just want the faintest hint of the stuff. Just a memory of an echo of a whisper. Tell your gin a story about vermouth. Store it in the same cabinet as vermouth. Shout the word vermouth from across the room if you want, just don’t put it in your drink. There is precious little joy left in this world, and it’s our job to keep it undiluted and delicious.

So, have your revenge and make your martinis, and make sure they’re both served cold. And then and only then, should you be talking to January about anything without a lawyer present. And don’t let anybody tell you any different. Especially Doug. Honestly, don’t even get me started on…