It’s that time of year when the exercise equipment goes on sale and everyone buys cookbooks with pictures of vegetables on the front. I’m skeptical of New Year’s Resolutions, not because I think self-improvement is deluding, but because there’s no reason why anyone should wait until January 1st to start doing it.
Yes, it’s a convenient reference point. Yes, making goals is the first step. But New Year’s Resolutions are their own kind of joke; everyone knows you’re not going to stick to it. It’s the equivalent of taking your vows at the altar and then making an aside joke about adultery.
Why is January special? Why can’t you remake yourself in the middle of June?
I’ve always been mystified about this. We like to make large, sweeping statements at the beginning of the year, but most of us don’t break those down into the little goals necessary for the day, the week, and the month that will add up to that big year-end goal.
I can say I want to write a novel in 2015 (and I do), but if I don’t establish a word count for the day or week, that big goal seems insurmountable by the time July rolls around and I haven’t approached that monolith of an achievement I set for myself seven months earlier.
I definitely have things I want to accomplish this year – actually doing them is the trick.