New Years Resolutions I’m Sure Not to Keep-2023
Time sure has a funny way of making one feel old. At some point or another, you start watching the calendar roll over on New Year’s Eve and wonder when the hell the numbers began to sound like something out of a Sci-Fi flick. When Orwell penned 1984 or Kubrick filmed 2001: A Space Odyssey, those seemed like far-off times that one could only dream of with wonder and imagination. Now they’re just old hat, days come and gone with much of the speculation of those two prognostications rendered to be nothing more than moot postulation.
And with each of those passing years, I become more and more convinced of the complete worthlessness of New Year’s Resolutions. I mean, what is dieting or more exercise going to do for me now? Let’s face it- I am clearly on the back nine at this point, so aren’t all these aspirations to better living just a bit too little, too late, like Keith Richards deciding to become a born-again Christian on his death bed? Nah, better to just live it up now, damn be the consequences. In fact, if anything, I think I just might resolve to take up chain smoking and meth, you know, go out in a blaze of underestimated glory. So with that in mind, here are more of my 2023 resolutions I am sure not to keep:
I resolve to treat my students with kindness and grace. Oh, who am I kidding? Their salt-water tears just taste too good in my tea each morning.
I resolve to cancel all the subscriptions I pay for but never use and limit my viewing options to the subscription services I pilfer from the accounts of friends and family.
I resolve to stop buying recreational gear that continues to fill our garage instead of the cars for which it was supposedly intended. You know you live in Colorado when your bikes are worth more than your vehicles and you probably spend more time on the former than the latter.
I resolve to stop making jokes about black tar heroin. I’m not saying that they’re not funny. They’re about black tar heroin, so of course they’re funny, but you just never know if those black tar heroin jokes are somehow laced with fentanyl.
I resolve to stop calling up Russel Wilson and demanding back his $45 million salary for supposedly playing quarterback for the Denver Broncos this season. Instead, I’ll just shout it at him as he sashes past me with his sizable entourage. With those ears of his, he should have no problem hearing me.
I resolve to stop looking at the social media accounts of all my high school friends and judging them from afar for how far they have slid from their former glory years.
I resolve to stop “doxxing” Elon Musk, or whatever the hell the term is for publicly posting his personal information including his whereabouts and address. Or at least I will resolve to do so once he agrees to step away from running Twitter into the ground.
I resolve to stop googling myself just so that I can see who pops up first: myself or former husband to Marie Osmond, Steve Craig. Sadly, you all know the results of this one.
I resolve to drink more orange juice. It should go really well with the vodka.
I resolve to stop laughing at my own jokes, especially when I’m the only one laughing.
I resolve to refrain from driving perilously close to my neighbor’s property just in the hopes that I may someday swerve and quasi-accidentally dismember his enormous blow-up Santa that bobs and weaves in the arctic wind like a point guard maneuvering through the lane on his way to a layup.
I resolve to poop only in my own personal bathroom instead of subjecting others to my objective horror through utilizing public toilets to do my bidding. That is just what normal people do.
In order to spend more quality time with my family, I resolve to limit watching football to Sundays. And Mondays. Oh, and don’t forget Thursdays. Ok, and the occasional Saturday as well.
I resolve to stop embarrassing my kids in from of their friends. At least on purpose.
I resolve to stop taking guilty pleasure in the misery of others. Right after I get done having yet another hearty laugh at Alex Jones losing his bankruptcy protection that he thought would get him out of paying the Sandy Hook victims 1.5 billion dollars.
And finally, I resolve to make next year’s Resolutions column even better than this year’s, which means I better start working on that right about now.
Steven Craig is the author of the best-selling novel WAITING FOR TODAY, as well as numerous published poems, short stories, and dramatic works. Read his blog TRUTH: In 1000 Words or Less every THURSDAY at www.waitingfortoday.com
