Truesday: Resolution on Resolutions
Beginning this week, Austinist will be introducing several new columns written by various contributors. These columns will run the gammut from thoughts on television (which you have already come to love) to dating-related issues (coming Wednesday) and the like. These posts will be spoken in the first person singular by the individual contributors and do not represent the thoughts/opinions of Austinist as a whole. Today, we introduce "Truesday," from contributor Truecraig. In "Truesday," you will find rantings about life, love, booze, self-control - or lack thereof - as this long-time Austinite navigates through life in the River City. Enjoy.
-The Editors
Ah yes. It’s that time of year again. The time of year where everyone wrinkles their brow, pretends to get introspective, and pens a list of quasi-evils from which they intend to select one for eradication. The curtain draws back to reveal one of America’s favorite hamster-wheels of well-intentioned futility: The New Year’s Resolution.
Unfortunately it’s always something amorphous, or incapable of being cornered and killed. People tend to pick the big dogs like “over-eating” to tackle in the coming year. Perhaps “make more money”. Throw in something about smoking, racist jokes in the workplace, slapping babies in public, whorehouses, or daily heroin use and the majority of the population’s resolutions are covered therein.
But honestly, is the end of the year the proper time to be dealing with these things? Should we be given the opportunity to throw water on these personality gremlins all year long, provided we reserve the intent to abolish them come year end? Who decided this shit? Is it some strange Catholic extension of Lent?
Personally, I don’t bother with any New Year’s Resolutions. Partly because the whole exercise seems to be flawed by design, but mostly because I’m just too damn lazy to come up with some lame promise to myself that I know I’ll never keep. It always ends in an internal struggle between my vices, elbowing each other into the spotlight.
Moderator of my mind: [to group of potential resolution victims] So what’ll it be this year, fellas?
Self Importance: [standing up and walking away] This is bullshit. Shenanigans, the whole lot of it.
[awkward silence from all, shrugging toward one another] …
Self Importance: [continuing, voice trailing, distant] And fuck you for asking…
Gluttony: [nonchalant] Hey, why don’t we stop smoking this year? That’s a popular one.
Wanton Tobacco Use: [fidgety] But isn’t alcohol our real problem at this moment? Remember last weekend? That’s right, you don’t. Plus, cigarettes help battle our second real issue: the fattiness factor.
Booze Lobby: [eyes closed with cake-lined mouth] It’s too goddamn bright in here. Can’t… think…
Moderator: Hey, Masturbation, stop that. Please. Can you try and stay focused for a minute here?
Laziness: [laying down, facing away from group] Is any of this really necessary?
Booze lobby: [falling from chair to floor in slow motion] Man… [slamming to cold ground, lifeless and mumbling] …Fuck this shit.
Masturbation: [suddenly, mysteriously relieved] Wake me up in fifteen minutes.
Moderator: [defeated] Whatever. I guess we’ll quit undersexed sobriety this year. Again.
Nothing comes of the debate. The wheels spin, and the vices simply entrench themselves a few feet deeper. And that only serves me right for picking that fight to begin with.
Quit smoking just because another year happens to be starting? But what about the Phillip-Morris share holders? Cease with slapping junior in the dairy aisle at HEB, just to mark the end of yet another December? But that’s the only parenting technique in the toolbox that works! Stop shooting up for the sake of 2006? Not unless cups of tap-water and actually paying bills starts getting me that high.
Where’s the real motivation in all that?
The fact that another year has (no way!) arrived is hardly a good motivation to mend broken aspects of our personal behavior. Black lung, child protective services, or unsightly track-marks, on the other hand, are perfectly reasonable motivations for abandoning our monkeys. But somehow those tangible and REAL repercussions aren’t as digestible as the “preventative”, yet altogether fruitless intention-magic behind the ever-popular New Year’s Resolution.
Brilliant.
Beyond the silliness of the whole thing, it must be pointed out that our collective tendency to use resolutions as a tool to denounce current behavior is only recognizing a miniscule portion of the Resolution’s full potential. It doesn’t have to be guilt-driven: “man, I should really stop fuckin’ up…” You don’t have to resolve yourself against yourself. You can resolve yourself against becoming something else instead: “I will not swap mom’s baby powder with Comet.” It’s much less personal, and the options become almost infinite! It’s POSITIVE instead of ONEROUS! All the real work gets done on the front end!
So, this year, in an effort to play some kind of instrument in this parade of pointlessness, I’ve decided to pick my resolution from a far more reasonable list of candidates. My list will ONLY contain behaviors/acts which I promise NOT to adopt/commit in the coming year. And I will successfully resolve them ALL. Presto:
THIS YEAR-
1. I will not willingly become a robot or walrus (or robot walrus).
2. I will not start my car with a banana or severed toe (mine or otherwise).
3. I will not intentionally use a pencil eraser to spark a fifth world war.
4. I will not attempt to use my Gramps’ still in Mississippi to make fake urine.
5. I will not purposefully use my face in the place of serviceable landing gear.
6. I will not pretend that my neighbor’s filthy goddamn backyard is actually Petrolicrapistan: a real country which we should invade, and spill blood in.
7. I will not make any efforts to view "Dances With Wolves." Nude. Again.
8. I will not stop a speeding train with my tongue, even on a really high-stakes bet.
9. I will not, under any circumstance or known motivation, wake up as a tone-deaf, one-legged, female Panda Bear, still living in the wild. And pregnant. (Unless I try really, really hard, but it never seems to stick, ya know? Damn.)
10. I will not knowingly run for president of Nigeria.
Oh, wow. As you can tell, It’s going to be a damn good year. A banner year! As long as I stick to my list!
Feel free to make your own. Make sure it’s a reasonable list. If not reasonable, then just make it's impossible to fuck up. Rig the probability in your favor. No sense in promising yourself disappointment this year, right? Right. And don’t forget to cram a plastic baby into some fruitcake for good luck. I hear that’s a cool tradition too. Pagans.
