I didn’t make any New Year’s resolutions this year.
We create New Year’s resolutions because we want to look like people on television commercials. We want sparkling white teeth, shimmery hair and ripped abs. We want bright happy lives filled with fluffy bath towels and clutter free countertops. We want to believe that drinking light beer while watching football will lead to sex.
We want perfect lives, and for some reason we find that January 1 is the time to stop, reflect on what will make us happy, and resolve to get it. Which is fine, except that most people have the wrong goals. We think the only thing holding us back from happiness is that we aren’t doing enough sit-ups.
Wrong.
I know. I tried. I have spreadsheets to prove it. Last year around this time, I made a list of all the little nagging things that I needed to correct to become a fitter, happier, more productive person. And I tracked them daily.
- Make coffee at home
- Bring lunch to work
- Exercise (cardio)
- Do 20 pushups
- Do 50 situps
- Write for 30 minutes
- Take vitamins
- Floss
- Clean the cat litter (once a week)
If you don’t believe me (really? you think I’d make this up?) here’s a screenshot of Joe’s Goals, the site I used to track these activities.
Boy, did it work. I saved hundreds of dollars each month on coffee and lunch. I worked out like a madman. I flossed every single night. I was a machine.
The only thing I didn’t do was write, which is the only worthy goal on that list.
There was nothing to write about. I was too busy focusing on completing my tasks. I was addicted to that feeling you get when you cross something off a to-do list. That sense of accomplishment. That ‘DONE.’ It is a drug.
The problem with this drug is that it turns us into hamsters, living in cages constructed out of our own neuroses. We pad around the cage knocking out tasks, consuming nutrients fed to us through the bars, and running the shit out of the hamster wheel. That’s all well and good, but it’s not human. It’s not creative. It’s not real.
I know what you’re thinking. In order to be the best at the rest of your life, you need to exercise and eat right, and flossing is good because you don’t want to wear dentures when you turn 40. Whatever. Keep telling yourself that.
Keep telling yourself that your life goals aren’t based on plotlines from Friends or Grey’s Anatomy.
Keep telling yourself that the secret to happiness is to lose weight, quit smoking, quit drinking, pay off your credit cards or get organized. (which, incidentally, are the top 5 most popular New Year’s resolutions)
Please. Those sound like resolutions of someone who wants to be unhappy.
I’m not saying that we should all aspire to blend in at Walmart. It’s important to get that stuff under control. I’m just saying that we’re all going to die. Our life goals should be much more important.
We should aspire to see new continents, to play drums, to enjoy scotch, to make friends with strangers, to code, to create beauty, TO TAKE ADVENTURES.
Can we please stop obsessing over arm fat?