I have never been one to make Resolutions for the New Year. Last year I was all about Courageous Declarations, and when looking back now, back over a period of time that seems a blur of standing still, with nothing distinct, I wish I had known at the time how much in need I would be of courageousness. Had I known from the start, perhaps I would have applied myself with more effort, and I could feel some kind of satisfaction or maybe even of success at having some sort of personal growth to show for that shitty year.

This year, with my feet firmly planted in the reality of the post-Covid AfterTimes, I am making Recommitments. I am Recommitting myself to the old and familiar, the things that as I reflect, have always defined me. Some since childhood, one since my early twenties (a time of a different kind of growing up), and one for the past decade or so (quite the formative time, as well). If 2020 was the year of Television and Podcasts, then 2021 will be marked by Books, Writing, Cooking, and Physical Health. 

It has not escaped my notice that while watching a show, or even listening to a podcast, I am merely an observer of life, the most passive of participants. A witness to the stories of others, rather than an author myself. I’ve thought long and hard about how I spend endless hours of my life watching other people actually live theirs- and fictional characters, at that. I’ve made all kinds of excuses for this, living in the Absolute Bumfuck of Nowhere always being at the top of such a list, and have mostly come to peace with the fact that this is where I am, physically and otherwise, right now. But still, I feel restless more and more often. I find myself thinking about writing, all of the time. I think about reading more. And I’ve finally decided that this year, there will be less thinking about doing things, and more actually doing things. 

I’m working hard to avoid the fatalism that accompanies Resolutions and Courageous Declarations and Recommitments. The fatalism of failure. Of giving up on yourself. So I’m gaming the system this time. Choosing my way forward through this shiny New Year by honoring parts of myself somewhat dusty and forgotten, but that still fit. I’m looking forward to finding my way back.

Oh, one more thing. As I was scrolling through Twitter this morning, I happened upon a list of Woody Guthrie’s New Year’s Resolutions for 1943. Here it is, if you’d like to be charmed by it, too 🙂