Some Things Never Change: 2002 New Year Resolutions

I would be remiss if I didn’t post an entry with my New Year’s resolutions, you know, those things we either vow to do every year or not to make at all. This year, I’m going middle road. I’ll put them out there, but I’m not going to beat myself up if I don’t achieve them.

That’s because I’m looking for a no pressure year. In fact, that’s my first new year’s resolution:

  1. Create no pressure.

I liken it to the “Do no harm” clause in the doctor’s handbook.

My second new year’s resolution is CLEARLY to write a book. I mean, c’mon. I am a “writer” in mid-life crisis. Not just your “average Joe” in mid-life crisis because, really, isn’t that how most writers see themselves? As not average? (Although, I’m not saying we see ourselves as necessarily better than average either.) Or maybe that’s just a human nature type thing.

Whatever. (This goes toward creating no pressure, which includes not having to fully explain myself. At least not for the next 12 months.)

Okay, so we’ve got one and two:

  1. Create no pressure.
  2. Write a book.

Here’s number three: Floss.

Threw you off, didn’t I? You thought I was going to put something in there about losing weight. (It’s okay, I’m not offended. I know I’m chubby.) But I refuse to do it. No way. I’d rather repave all the potholes in Colorado than put a clause in my new year’s resolutions about losing weight. Because it never works. Never. If it works for you, tell me how. I’m serious. Write to me. Has anybody out there EVER resolved to lose weight and actually done it? Because I’ve seen you all at the gym, where I have to wait mercilessly for an elliptical machine in January and, come February, it’s all mine again. Whenever I want it. So don’t judge me. I’m you. (Remember?) AND I’M NOT RESOLVING TO LOSE WEIGHT. Forget it.

Again, create no pressure. Do no harm. Which brings me back to flossing.

Why do so many of us fail to do this? It’s what? A five-minute experience once a day? Not the most pleasant — surely not like having an Egg Nog Latte or finding the perfect white tee shirt. On sale. But it’s better than gum surgery (sans the gas).

And so, I will add it to my evening ritual like having sex.

Which brings me to my next new year’s resolution (mom, cover your eyes): MORE SEX. Even if I don’t want it. Even if I’ve spent the entire day painting, doing sit ups, push ups, walking the dog, actually having gum surgery and then hauling large vats of cement up my neighbor’s long steps. Even if I throw out my back, dislodge an important knee joint, feel the full wrath of my peri-menopausal condition (night sweats, afternoon hot flashes) or fail to fit into my sweats. Even if I lose my biggest client and our Home Depot card is repossessed. Even if the cable goes out and Comcast can’t fix the problem for a week. Even if Dan slips into a coma. If he suddenly develops amnesia and is lost wandering the streets, I’ll find him. I’ll make it happen. I’m that resolute. No matter what the physical, mental or emotional issues of the day, I vow to have MORE SEX.

So let’s recap to this point:

  1. Create no pressure.
  2. Write a book.
  3. Floss.
  4. Sex it up.

Oh, ooh, take more pictures with our digital camera and actually develop them. Yep, that’s definitely my next one. First, though, I have to find the camera. I know it’s in this house somewhere. But where?

Number six: Stay out of Home Goods. Even though I can practically spit at it from my new house where I need just about EVERYTHING. Even though every time I drive by I hear it call me in a voice that resembles Linda Blair’s in the Exorcist. “Jill,” a deep guttural growl. “You WILL come in. You WILL shop.” And then, there’s green spew everywhere. (Well, not really, but consider it here for effect.)

Which leads me naturally into the next one: Remember that credit is real money. (I might have to delete this one, however, because it directly violates resolutions number one, three and four. Don’t ask.)

Number eight: Learn how to be a better trimmer. I’m talking all things – bushes, eyebrows, upper lip hair, painting the bathroom, bangs, Winnie’s nails, the fat, just anything in general. I mean, we never really stop to think about how trimming impacts our every day lives. Aside from the obvious improvements, I think being a better trimmer would greatly improve the quality of my life (not to mention give me a better shot at heaven, in a non-secular way, if you know what I’m saying).

Nine: Moisturize. This seems self-explanatory.

Number 10: Learn how to sell shit on eBay. I am so sick and tired of people saying to me, “You should sell that on eBay.”

If I had a nickel … Like the box of Rolling Stone Magazines I have in the garage, my old eight tracks, and a half-closet full of size six clothes. (Contrary to the new agers, optimistic thinking doesn’t always work.)

And then I think, yeah, I should. I should do a lot of things, like get TiVo and program the VCR and change the oil in my car. Read up on the Intel Pentium chip because I know it’s more than just a ring tone and a logo with a nice collection of primary colors.

Number 11: Get the dog to love me. I mean, I know she does. Especially when it’s bodily function time (Time to feed me, I have to poop, pee, run in circles in the park, mount strangers). But as soon as Dan comes home, I could be lying dead in the gas fireplace, stoked to the max, and she’d be oblivious. So, this year, I’m upping the ante.

Better treats. Designer booties. Gold-plated chew toys. More one-on-one time doing things with other mommies and their collies and retrievers. A few more heart to hearts. Stuffed wildebeests, with easy open seams and access to fuzz stuffing. More table food. An extreme makeover of her crate. (I can hear Tye now, “Move that, uh, chenille throw!”) More throw up time, with leniency to let go on the carpet. More productive begging. I’m optimistic here. After all, how do you think I landed my husband? (Single ladies, take note.)

Where we’re at:

  1. Create no pressure.
  2. Write a book.
  3. Floss.
  4. Sex it up.
  5. Locate digital camera.
  6. Shun Home Goods.
  7. Credit is money. Really.
  8. Improve trimming skills.
  9. Lube a lot.
  10. Master EBay.
  11. Win over the dog.

Yep, sounds good. Okay, just a few more.

Number 12:  Get better at pretending to like football (baby, this one’s for you). I think this is really a patience issue, so let me reword. (It’s all about rewriting.) Develop more patience for football. Because, in my opinion, it’s downright unrealistic to think that I’d ever be more patient in general. I am, after all, now 34. (Shut up, you.)

Number 13: Drink more so I can cut back on my antidepressants. Frankly, I hardly ever remember to take the little pink pills anymore. (Come to think of it, where are they anyway? Probably with the camera.) In general, I think it’d just be easier to keep a beer at the ready.

Which brings me to my next and final resolution:

Number 14:  Buy more beer.

To recap:

  1. Dig football.
  2. Take up drinking.
  3. More Yuengling.

Well, I think that does it. Sheesh, I had a lot more resolutions than I realized. Thank you! Writing is so cathartic.

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Jill Sherer Murray is the founder of Let Go For It, a brand dedicated to helping individuals let go for a better life. Jill’s TEDx talk as well as her advice column, Big Wild Love: Let Go For It℠ were created in service to her loyal and growing fan base, who seek support in the act and the art of letting go for the love they desire and deserve. Follow Jill on on Twitter @letgoforit, FacebookInstagram and LinkedIn.

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