SuppliedFebruary 10, 2005
Holly Higgins
Some 30-odd days ago, you woke up with your head pounding rhythmically, reminiscent of the drumming music of the keg party you were at the night before. The insides of your mouth felt like a ball of gritty sandpaper trembling with the immediate need for water. The soreness of all your muscles and joints reminded you that jumping off the deck into the hot tub may have looked cool at the time, but right now seems mostly like a ridiculous decision.
You rubbed your tired eyes, cursed the powers that be, and promised yourself that you would never, ever again put yourself through the wretchedness of drinking too much alcohol. Even if those 30-some-odd days ago you had woke up to a brilliant morning full of sunshine seeping through your window shades, chances are you approached that morning differently — after all, that was no ordinary morning. That was the beginning of a new year.
There is something glorious about the promise of a new beginning. Three-hundred-and-sixty-five full days stretched before you like the yellow brick road, glistening with the potential of who and what you may encounter in the upcoming journey: a new year, a new start. “This year,” you say with conviction and purpose, “I’m going to sober up/calm down/quit smoking/swear less/get in shape/eat better/be nicer to my siblings/study harder/whatever.”
But somehow we turn over and find ourselves in the beginning of February. The pledge for more sleep has turned into napping two times on Saturday to regain the hours you lost the previous days. The promise of drinking less means drinking two drinks less than the usual ten, although admittedly you ran out of money before you could buy more anyways. The resolution of being less stressed has been met with opposition from your friends, family members, professors, bosses, and that cute blonde-haired boy you’re trying to date, who all seem to demand time from your personal schedule. As the usual glut of exams, papers, and meetings approaches, you seem to hardly be able to recall anything you promised, resolved, or committed to on 1 January — a tie that, really, seems oh so long ago.
New Year’s resolutions plague our lives for a few weeks, and then, like magical spells broken, sweep away. The gym is suddenly quiet again with regular usually working out. Your daytimer is packed full of those extra commitments you promised yourself to get rid of. Your dog throws up on your bed. Life goes on.
Resolutions are a fun way to tease yourself into imagining what your life might be like if you operated differently. For those people who managed to set a new goal and keep it this long, you deserve a medal of accomplishment. Supposedly it takes three days to create a new bad habit, and three months to break it. The clock is ticking on for those people determined to change, and real life will continue to get in the way. As for the other 96 per cent of us, I’ll see you up in RATT.
Original link: https://peel.library.ualberta.ca/newspapers/GAT/2005/02/10/10/
