Surprise, surprise. My NY Resolution is late. Big freaking surprise.
It’s just sooooo easy for you people to make your nifty, special “New Years Resolutions.” Many of them are actually followed through and obtained. Everyone has their little glitches, their hiccups, their nuances. I have a mountainous pile of glutinous regrets, and that’s one of my good qualities. Let’s follow along this simple essay on why the $&@ I am physically but probably more mentally unable to reach any New Years goals. Or, ANY goal. Whatsoever.
1. I have no follow through. That’s certainly a valid excuse that I would like to use now, in this current moment. There’s a legit micro chip missing for all of the projects and tasks and to-do lists that I wholeheartedly and ignorantly volunteer for, that disables me from any sort of completion. There’s no closure. We just have things being started everywhere across the board, with good, yet assinine intentions, and there’s sadly zero ability to wrap up any given one of those listed items. Examples: College, scrap booking, writing, jewelry making, knitting, registering more than 23 daily steps on my Fitbit, committing to eating one healthy food item in the week, keeping my sinks or bathrooms clean, blah, blabedy blah. Here are the things I can follow through on: Jumping to conclusions, finishing other people’s sentences, but not in the way said person would hope, judging the book and human by its cover, putting the glass house before the horse cart, and winning at immature mental and verbal tirades. I am great at making really long lists, at focusing on the negative, at inserting foot into gaping mouth, at screwing up EVERYTHANG, of wasting time, of procrasting said wasted time, and of being a spastic, colossal numnuts.
2. I am way too impulsive. I know the aftermath. I’ve lived the cloud of monetary regret, and suffered from prior situations. Back in the day, I have shopped, and hoarded, and collected and spent. My car payment was due by the 5th? To me, that meant a whole lick of fat nothin.’ My insurance, rent, phone bill, and tuition was coming up soon? Well, it’ll still be there after I purchase this new grunge wardrobe, because let’s be honest. I just watched “Reality Bites” for the 12th time, and I can no longer live without 12 new “lived in” Gap tees. For me, I am very special, because those memories must not be enough to stop me from pressing the golden, sparkly “purchase” button. I can’t just walk around Target. I can’t just “accompany” my girlfriends to the Coach store. That would just be far too painful, too far fetched to even fathom. Listen close. I’m going to buy something. I’m going to buy stuff, and I’m going to deliberately make it worth the impending stupor of trouble that is already brewing, no – festering inside my abode. You can bank on that.
3. Even if I was blessed with the ability to follow through, I cannot focus. With the constant interruptions that occur on any given day, most of the things that pop into my brain never see the light of day. For example: I will think to myself: “Self, I certainly do need to pump up the tires on my healthy and aerodynamic bicycle so that I may participate in some sort of cycling endeavor.” “Stop hitting me!” “She just stabbed me with her pant leg!” Phone rings, timer goes off, runs to get paper for this genius idea that I just lost track of, sneeze, wet pants (I’ll refrain from explanation), jump up holding bladder and run to change pants but step on cat’s tail, get new pants, possibly take a restroom detour, notice eyebrow hack job while in mirror after washing hands, mental note to Google Web MD for crooked nose and how maybe that’s the reason for newly acquired acid reflux phenomenon sensation, remember that I used to love the song “New Sensation,” remember an INXS concert that I may have snuck to one time (allegedly), have a fleeting memory of my 18 year old pencil thin waist, walk past the paper that I once needed, bypassing my garage which stores said bicycle, bending down to check on the mental status of the psycho cat who already hated my ugly mug face, ignoring the timer that just went off on the…stove? The Dryer? Nah, wasn’t cooking or doing laundry, and it’s just about that point where I come to the realization that I have been working hard. I’m obviously sweating for a reason, so this means that a work out has occurred and I’m plum tuckered. I’m sure my screaming kids won’t mind if I just rest my head…for…a…bit…
4. Bored. I bore easily! This is not a fun quality. It is not fun to mentally check out during mid conversation. It isn’t professional, mature, or attractive. But, if you’re telling me about your bland, vanilla epiphany that occurred to you at midnight when you should have been sleeping, but you were catching up on your (boring show) episodes while eating (boring food), and suddenly you realized that you should be flossing with the floss pics instead of the (boring) floss string, I’m going to projectile. I can’t listen to your (boring) stories without wanting to slice my pinky toe clear off. Please, I’m not asking to be entertained, I’m just asking to…be…entertained. … Damn.
4 1/2. I’m shallow.
5. Overwhelmed – I would love to blog more often. I love blogging. I’m a blogger! Howevs, looking above to problems 1, 2, and 3, and the 4’s, those things alone make it very difficult to complete a task, BUT, if my routine gets thrown out of whack, or something unexpected occurs, or an unexpected thought presents itself, my day is finished. There’s no ruling out the unwanted stimuli in my noggin. There’s an instantaneous interruption that is not possible for me to bounce back from.
Look. I obviously do not have delusions of grandeur. I, in no way fancy myself of the magnificence status, nor would I even color myself worthy enough to be in the spectacular species range. I am jacked up. This is not breaking news. I have issues. I am unorganized, a prolific mistake maker, I speak out of turn, and tongue (talented) I can’t focus, I finish hella nothin,’ I remember jack, and I’ll probably never give anybody a piece of my mind. Oh, and I can’t twerk. What I do have, however, are delusions of finally having a New Years goal that gets met. Or seven. I am fully aware going into it every year that I am the way I am, that things may fall just a wee bit short, but because of my inability to weed out rational donkey sense, I am continuously going to make my damned (see what I did there) lists. And because I am also fantastic at gauging mental excitement, I am going to give you this year’s (drum roll) resolution list!
1. Blog more often. I love, love blogging, and I hereby plan to force myself to carve out more time for it.
2. Become more creative with my meal planning, and don’t be afraid to actually make one of those creations. (Unrealistic)
3. Stop getting sidetra
3. Im hungry for a panini.
4. Keep the same friends for far more than a half second. This kind of speaks for itself, although there is much explanation but no sharing.
5. Keep trying to be a better mom and spouse. There’s nothing funny about that, so sometimes I like to think of a funny word to lighten the awkward mood. Okay, I just thought of one and I snickered.
6. Write. I have other things that I love to work on, and it would be super swell to see the ink on the parchment (1800’s reference).
7. Finish my degree (buah!) I’ll have to revisit this again later when I’m not experiencing such intense, anxious, sad faced emotions.
8. Please keep in mind that these fantasy items are definitely not in order. I would like to keep sparkling clean my house and car. Ad nauseum. I want people to be afraid. I want them to ask: “Wait, is this the perfectly coiffed model home?” “Nope. It’s my domicile. Please remove your shoes and any velvet garments before entering. I do not do lint.”
9. Oh! Exercise.
9. They have the best paninis at Starbucks!
10. I need to get my husband to take me seriously and stop snarkling his coffee clear out of his nose when I ask him to pretty please pump up my bicycle tires so that I may go on a cross country adventure with the young lads. I need him not to mock me right in my face when I tell him that I want to be in a real marathon, after I’ve been marathon lounging for 6 years. There could be more if I was decent in math.
So, mate – In a tattered and bloody fungal nutshell, in case you pressed “snooze” after accidentally clicking my blog link, here’s a reiterated synopsis for my fellow Aussie’s: I am awesome at screwing up most important tasks, great at making my friends laugh at my stupid ass, have perfected sarcasm and know how to brave an English accent (only 2 words) and I am delusionally happy. I might screw up my New Years resolutions every year, and I just might even optimistically, and very unrealistically believe those resolutions will finally come true, but I do quite love this whacky, spontaneous, spazzed out life.