I love this time of the year when everybody is making their lists of resolutions and swearing to keep them, cos’ this time around it will be different, I’m sure. We promise to stop drinking, smoking, picking wrong partners or to start eating better and exercising regularly. Usually there’s a list of 10+ things, conveniently enough, never written down so that the 8 out of those 10 things from our lists can be forgotten as soon as the alcohol we self-medicated with on the New Years Eve wears off.
I’m always so imaginative with my list making, especially if I’m a bit tipsy; than I’m like Hemingway ready to go of into the world and do….something. I want to conquer the world! Travel! Write more! Drink less! We are all pumped up to stick with our resolutions this time around, even though we know that in about 2 weeks time gym, we so eagerly started on 2.1, will be conveniently relocated at our local, friendly bar and the only exercise will be doing is calling for another round.
All this got me thinking about past list-making and past New Years Eves and impact they had on little ol’ me. Lets rewind to a New Years in early 2000’s. I was with my boyfriend, at the time, on an island, cocooned in a blanket in his arms. He was, by far, the kindest and nicest boy I was with to this date. He looked at me and said: “How we spend New Years Eve is how rest of the year will look like, so we should spend it in love and happiness.” It all sounded wise and meaningful, but hey, when you’re a kid everything sounds wise and meaningful. It comes with the territory, along with wearing all the wrong things to all the right places. Looking back to my past New Years Eve celebrations I couldn’t help but notice that maybe there was something to all that New Years Eve- rest of the year connection after all.
Fast forward to last years celebration…I was with my last boyfriend. We didn’t do much to celebrate, even though it was our anniversary. Our 4th anniversary to be precise. We ate a dinner he made, talked a little and ignored each other for rest of the evening. One particular part of that evening popped out in my head; It was about 3 a.m in his small, one bedroom apartment overlooking a park. He was asleep and I was looking out of a window thinking how I wasn’t happy and wanted out. Out for a walk, out of that relationship, out of everything. It didn’t take us long after that to brake up for the first time, get back together and that a few months later brake up for the last time leaving me broken up six ways to Sunday and him with a new girlfriend in, literally, 2 days. It goes without saying that 2013. sucked royally for me. This year I was smarter, though. I celebrated with a bunch of friends while drinking, eating, dancing, singing the night away and I found myself at the crack of dawn dragging my tired but happy ass home. That being said; 2014. please be a kick ass year!
Maybe the kind and nice boy was right, maybe it all does come down to pixie dust we feed our selves with on that one night. Maybe instead of laughing of our resolutions, we should embrace the positive energy that comes out of it and use it in our advantage. Maybe we all should dream big and smile more. What do you think? Have you made any resolutions of your own?