[LJ Idol 7: Optional Topic] Resolutions
I'm sure that I can claim hundreds of failed self-reinventions by now. Thousands, even.
New calendar years.
New academic years.
Birthdays, not necessarily mine.
Anniversaries, also not necessarily mine.
Monday mornings.
Sunday nights.
Friday nights.
Sunday mornings.
And of course, the midst of any stressful situation for which I can blame myself. Though, whatever those particular lists say, however long they are, every last one of them could be summed up by one sentence:
I will never do this to myself again!
(Until next time. Of course.)
Lists scribbled in spiral notebooks in girlish handwriting, complete with "i"s dotted with hearts.
Lists torn out, crumpled up, thrown away.
Lists written in fancy fonts in ClarisWorks.
Lists printed out, folded and refolded, forgotten in the pocket of a skirt and sent through the wash.
Lists jotted on Post-it notes, hidden in day planners and odd pages of binders, coded to be intelligible only to myself.
Lists stumbled upon days weeks months years later, so cryptic that even I have forgotten their meaning or the circumstance of their creation.
Lists that become private Livejournal posts, or exist only in my head when I feel as though even that would be too insecure, too risky.
I will become a better person. Whatever that is.
I seek quantitative measurements of success:
Minutes per week of exercise.
Grade point averages.
Standardized test scores.
Words written per day.
Money not spent.
Calories not consumed.
Inches of space no longer taken up by me.
I will work harder. I will do more. I will make better use of my time.
There are twenty-four whole hours in a day, right?
I don't need to waste them playing Sims.
I don't need to waste them randomly Wikisurfing or refreshing LiveJournal however many times.
I don't need to waste them shopping, because I'll just buy more things to clutter up the house.
I don't need to waste them mindlessly re-reading old books while I mindlessly munch junk food.
I don't need to waste them...well, that's just it.
I don't need to waste them.
I need to use them wisely.
Shoot for the moon. If you miss, you'll still end up among the stars.
A pretty saying, yet untrue astronomically speaking.
And quite possibly equally untrue as metaphor.
Like so many of us, I laughed and laughed and laughed at Allie Brosh's "CLEAN ALL THE THINGS!" post.
But I cried, too. Hard.
Not only because I find CLEANING ALL THE THINGS hopelessly overwhelming, either.
(And e-mail inboxes, and going to the BANK like an ADULT.)
Although I do.
But because of the title. The real title:
This is why I'll never be an adult.
That's what the lists are about, you see, every single time.
Being a real adult who does the right thing.
You know, like real adults are supposed to do.
But making the lists is only the first step.
(Sort of like that "admit you have a problem" thing.)
There's remembering where the list is in the first place.
There's deciding what on the list to do first and second-guessing any prior decision.
There's getting interrupted while following the list, and never getting back on track.
There's losing the list and having to hunt for it.
There's finding two or three or six different lists and trying to decide which one to follow, or how to merge them, and getting sidetracked into throwing them all out and making a NEW IMPROVED LIST.
Last semester, not making the lists became the first step.
In place of the lists was one question:
Did you take your ADD meds?
And there was one way to find out:
Fourteen pills counted out into their own bottle, every Sunday night.
At first, I saw how many remained the next Sunday.
Now? Now I can see how many are left, compare to how many should be left, and I can know the answer.
And I can take action on the answer. For this one thing.
The meds aren't helping me follow the lists.
They're helping me to stop making the lists.
So this new year, I am resolved not to resolve anything special...
...except to keep taking my meds, of course. :)
New calendar years.
New academic years.
Birthdays, not necessarily mine.
Anniversaries, also not necessarily mine.
Monday mornings.
Sunday nights.
Friday nights.
Sunday mornings.
And of course, the midst of any stressful situation for which I can blame myself. Though, whatever those particular lists say, however long they are, every last one of them could be summed up by one sentence:
I will never do this to myself again!
(Until next time. Of course.)
Lists scribbled in spiral notebooks in girlish handwriting, complete with "i"s dotted with hearts.
Lists torn out, crumpled up, thrown away.
Lists written in fancy fonts in ClarisWorks.
Lists printed out, folded and refolded, forgotten in the pocket of a skirt and sent through the wash.
Lists jotted on Post-it notes, hidden in day planners and odd pages of binders, coded to be intelligible only to myself.
Lists stumbled upon days weeks months years later, so cryptic that even I have forgotten their meaning or the circumstance of their creation.
Lists that become private Livejournal posts, or exist only in my head when I feel as though even that would be too insecure, too risky.
I will become a better person. Whatever that is.
I seek quantitative measurements of success:
Minutes per week of exercise.
Grade point averages.
Standardized test scores.
Words written per day.
Money not spent.
Calories not consumed.
Inches of space no longer taken up by me.
I will work harder. I will do more. I will make better use of my time.
There are twenty-four whole hours in a day, right?
I don't need to waste them playing Sims.
I don't need to waste them randomly Wikisurfing or refreshing LiveJournal however many times.
I don't need to waste them shopping, because I'll just buy more things to clutter up the house.
I don't need to waste them mindlessly re-reading old books while I mindlessly munch junk food.
I don't need to waste them...well, that's just it.
I don't need to waste them.
I need to use them wisely.
Shoot for the moon. If you miss, you'll still end up among the stars.
A pretty saying, yet untrue astronomically speaking.
And quite possibly equally untrue as metaphor.
Like so many of us, I laughed and laughed and laughed at Allie Brosh's "CLEAN ALL THE THINGS!" post.
But I cried, too. Hard.
Not only because I find CLEANING ALL THE THINGS hopelessly overwhelming, either.
(And e-mail inboxes, and going to the BANK like an ADULT.)
Although I do.
But because of the title. The real title:
This is why I'll never be an adult.
That's what the lists are about, you see, every single time.
Being a real adult who does the right thing.
You know, like real adults are supposed to do.
But making the lists is only the first step.
(Sort of like that "admit you have a problem" thing.)
There's remembering where the list is in the first place.
There's deciding what on the list to do first and second-guessing any prior decision.
There's getting interrupted while following the list, and never getting back on track.
There's losing the list and having to hunt for it.
There's finding two or three or six different lists and trying to decide which one to follow, or how to merge them, and getting sidetracked into throwing them all out and making a NEW IMPROVED LIST.
Last semester, not making the lists became the first step.
In place of the lists was one question:
Did you take your ADD meds?
And there was one way to find out:
Fourteen pills counted out into their own bottle, every Sunday night.
At first, I saw how many remained the next Sunday.
Now? Now I can see how many are left, compare to how many should be left, and I can know the answer.
And I can take action on the answer. For this one thing.
The meds aren't helping me follow the lists.
They're helping me to stop making the lists.
So this new year, I am resolved not to resolve anything special...
...except to keep taking my meds, of course. :)