I loathe New Years resolution because they’re ultimately depressing. 12 months after filling a sheet of A4 with vows to Teach Self Physics or Learn Another Language – No Really This Time, you find the paper, realise you haven’t done any of it and go into a shame spiral that takes another year to wear off (Unless of course you’re Dan in which you not only live up to your wild promise to become a gym bunny but learn Russian in your spare time – hey man, nobody like an overachiever, I’m just saying…)
The solution to my consistent failure to live up to my ambitions has pretty much been simply not to have any. Why not set the bar lower enough you can stumble over it with a drink in one hand? And, sad as that sounds, it’s served me pretty well so far.
But this year I find myself tempted, even long after the new year has come and gone. Because Lesley and Ms Gant have declared this the year of Getting Shit Done and this is something that appeals to me. The shit that gets done will not, I’m sorry to say, be stuff like learning a language, understanding the futures market or becoming Someone Who Runs. All of that I would quite like to do but… eh, who has the energy? The shit that is going to get done is the stuff that actually matters – the things that are important to me. And while I don’t have an apartment to sell or a marriage to flee there are some things I really, really want.
First up is to deal with TCNTDNSIN. It may indeed be very crappy. It may indeed be too crappy, even, to speak its name but I haven’t busted my chops for a year(ish) on it to toss it in the bottom drawer. At the very least I would like to get it to the stage where I quite like it, even if nobody else does.
Next up we have finances. Bleh. But, seriously, it’s time I got them in order. Will it be the share market? Property? Or a big sack under my bed with a dollar sign on it? Who can say, but it’s going to happen.
Thirdly it’s all about doing good. I have become very slack as far as the old pussies are concerned – ever since I started the new job I find I need my weekends now more than ever but I feel horribly guilty every time I miss it. Fair enough – I should feel guilty because I’m a slack beggar but there’s no point in making myself miserable. When I can’t do the cats I’ll donate some cold, hard cash in my place. Not quite so meritorious, I’m sure, but more achievable, given my state of mind by the time I get to my weekends these days.
Finally I plan to drink more. Because it would be nice to be certain I’ll get at least one of these things done.