Be It Resolved I Don’t Have Resolutions Right Now

It’s not only a new year it’s also a brief period of time every newspaper, tweet, or Buzzfeed list has something on resolutions, or perhaps simple goal setting for the new year, or thinkpieces on resolving to not make resolutions for 2018 and doesn’t that make the writer smart? I have entered a category not seen, yet, in the resolution revolution of the new year.

Overall, I have no freaking idea.

I have vague ideas. I vaguely know writing zooms to the top of the list, always, covering everything from this blog to writing better material on stage for stand-up open mics. Fitness-wise, I just try to move or take the stairs although I do want to return to the Y to finish my audiobook version of David Copperfield, knowing for the first month or two people will head to the gym in droves. I keep my fingers crossed for people to find moving, just plain-old moving, brings satisfaction rather than some asshat in their family nagging about their weight or how they will not get a man with that body.

I do have one theme popping up in my reading, the kind giving me a sign, the quiet voice of a year saying ‘how about this?’ It’s book titles like:

• Sarah Knight’s The Life-Giving Magic of Not Giving a F**k
• Mark Manson’s The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck

No matter the position of the asterisk, it’s time to take a look at where I give my effs, as I like to call them, and if those feelings have sustained me. Short answer: Nope to the nth degree. I must remember to reallocate those effs without turning me into an asshat. Some people hearing Knight’s book would say “Hey, I already do that.” Sure, but they may have missed the caution to not act like an asshat, they may even say ‘I don’t want to do any politically-correct pussyfooting. I need to be blunt.’ However, asshats are usually the last people to know they are, well, asshats and their definition of blunt have all the power of sandpaper on bare skin. I have the opposite problem, the armadillo approach.

Armadillos have tough hides and soft bellies. This creature will curl up to protect the soft interior:

While I will make the leap into the unknown, it usually happens after doing the above picture a few times. However, taking this approach can render a person, alright me, road kill. (I have never been to Texas but heard these creatures have met their death by vehicle many times.) I am tired of being road kill. My resolution vague idea for 2018-do a f**k budget. See what effs I have expedited, reallocated, or scuttled in the end. It’s a start. The rest, well, it’s only the first full week of 2018. It just feels like months in the deep, winter cold.