The new year is almost here, and that means it’s resolution time. Most other years I’ve just made one or two small resolutions, like to stop putting so much butter on my lobster, or to stop eating so much lobster, or to stop stealing lobsters from those tanks at the market, and they’ve quickly fallen by the wayside by the time spring was approaching. So this year I’m trying something different. I’m going to resolve to overhaul my entire life. I’m going to change every little facet of my way of thinking and behaving. That way it will not be so easy to drop any one change, because they’ll all be part of a delicately woven tapestry of self-betterment.
I’m going to become a Christian and start going to church every Sunday. What better way to start with a clean slate than to make peace with the Big Man up there in the attic? I’m going to read from the Bible every day, and seriously contemplate the wealth of lessons that are there to be discovered and treasured. Or I’ll get an audio book version and listen to it while I cook dinner every night and reflect on how blessed I am to have such a bountiful meal. Okay, I’ll install an HD TV set on the wall across from my toilet, and every time I shit, I’ll put on a Cecil B. DeMille movie.
I’m going to quit the cool job that I have, and get a new job doing mindless data entry at a gigantic corporation. I’ll very soon blend in with the bureaucratic masses, and never stand out in any way. I’ll decorate my half of the cubicle—which I’ll share with another wayward soul who has given up on happiness and only puts on a tie every day because of the strict dress code—with comic strips that I cut out from the newspaper which I find mildly analogous to my struggles with life. I will become a fan of Dilbert and Garfield. I’m going to get really fat, as a result of all of this. I’m going to get a gym membership that I’ll keep paying for every month until I eventually die prematurely of a heart attack, even though I’ll never once use it.
I’m going to start watching reality television. I’m going to marry a dull, tepid woman from the HR department of the office I’ll work at. Our courtship will be short and businesslike. We’ll quickly decide to have three mediocre, uninteresting children that we can spend quality family time with every night watching reality television. My wife and I will probably have sex about once every two or three months. To make sure the passion doesn’t die. Every time we do, I’ll be imagining she’s my kids’ teenage babysitter. Every Thursday night my wife will make enchiladas, and this will be the part of my week I look forward to most.
I will stop going out and partying, and, of course, lose touch with all of my friends. The only real friendships I’ll have will be with my two dogs, because outside of them and my family, the only people I’ll be associating with will be thick-headed, chauvinistic assholes from the office. I’ll think about suicide often, but I’ll never have the balls to actually do it. I’ll start spending a lot of time alone in the garage. I won’t do anything. Just sit there. Not even thinking.
Looking at this laundry list of life goals is a little bit daunting, I’ll admit. But I truly believe I can achieve the whole package, if not completely within the coming year, then at least I will have laid the solid foundation on which to build this temple to better living. Each brick will fall into place, and before I know it, I’ll have the solid, down to earth, respectable kind of life than anyone would be envious of. Instead of this bar-hopping, speed-boating, coke-fuelled, fornication-fest that I currently have to suffer through every day.
*Photo by Amani Hasan via Flickr.
