“First say to yourself what you would be; and then do what you have to do.” Epictetus
I hereby publicly state my 2022 resolutions before the tide of rants decrying resolutions as the folly of a made-up Hallmark Holiday. Such scoffing harshes my Seasonal Affective Disorder buzz.
1. Become Instagram Influencer. Make sure “Instagram Influencer” is not a euphemism for “orgy hostess.” (see: awkward Tupperware Party 2013)
2. Make time to work out. Make time for myself. Scoff at the notion I have but 24 hours a day. Manipulate the fourth dimension. Host a podcast “Spacetime and Other Fabulous Unifications,” during which offer up confession that I would only work out to look good at the community pool’s concession stand when I order a jumbo bratwurst.
3. Stay Focused and Don’t Lose Track of What I’m Saying
4. Be more tolerant. Accept people even when they say “I’ll wait” after provoking an internet argument. Accept people for thinking flip-flops are acceptable everywhere feet are welcome. Accept the fact Miley Cyrus’s tongue takes up one of my brain cells.
5. Make time to work out. Make time for myself.
6. Manage Stress. Stop reading comments on internet articles, in Facebook threads, and left under my windshield in the Target parking lot.
7. Learn a language. I choose English.
8. End unhealthy relationships: No longer do I care to regularly end up a crying, drooling mess, so no more going to the dentist.
9. Stop giving in to the urge to have lists with round numbers.
10. As best I can
All that’s left is the doing. Happy New Year!