How to make a New Year's Resolution

I think I started making New Year’s Resolutions in 2009.

For me, they’re like quarterbacks for the Chicago Bears: start with promise, rarely get going, end up thrown on the dustheap of quarterbacks who have thrown more interceptions than touchdowns and can’t beat the Green Bay Packers.

I don’t remember most of my resolutions (though I can name a few Bears quarterbacks, s/o to Rex Grossman and Cade McNown). Actually, I don’t remember anything I resolved to do without going back into my notes app. So in that respect, Bears quarterbacks are more memorable than at least one thing on this planet.

I don’t remember them because not one of them lasted until February. Every year, it’s the same pattern: if I can do this for a year, I think my life will get a lot better. And every year, I concoct some idea that is so absurdly unreachable that I wilt under the pressure of the discipline required to get there.

Maybe we need to limit the scope: instead of New Year’s Resolutions, let’s James Clear this thing and make it a New Minute’s Resolution: in the next minute I will not get a second handful of Cheeze-Its.

I did it! “Should auld acquaintance be forgot”. I’m going to celebrate with some Goldfish.

So here I am trying to recall some of my past resolutions so that I can share a story with you all. But given that I’m only seeing Rex Grossman throwing interceptions and none come to mind, I’m going to have to imagine what they might have been:

2009: I resolve to ask Melody Young on a date. I really think she might be the one. She’s pretty and funny. And she definitely knows I exist because she saw me reading Wild at Heart and asked about it. Sure she didn’t poke me back on Facebook, but she clearly found me impressive.

2010: I resolve to ask out Amanda Norton. I really think she might be the one. She’s pretty and funny. And she saw me reading Velvet Elvis and asked about it. Sure, I stumbled through my response because I was really playing Fruit Ninja on my phone because this book is weird. But she clearly found me impressive.

2011: I resolve to get my GPA up from 2.4. It turns out you have to go to class and not go to Starbucks on campus for a mocha instead.

2013: I resolve to read the entire Bible.

2014: I resolve to read past Leviticus.

2015: I resolve to read past Numbers.

2016: I resolve to read past Numbers.

2017: I resolve to read a Psalm.

2018: I resolve to run a marathon.

2018: I resolve to run a half-marathon.

2018: I resolve to run a 5K.

2018: I resolve to run a 1K.

2018: I resolve to run around my apartment.

2018: I resolve to stop drinking mochas.

Why do we think every year is going to go better? I’m not trying to be cynical. I just think we’d have enough evidence by now that resolving anything in this world is like adopting a dog that isn’t potty trained: it will not go like you planned.

Maybe you’re healthier than I am. You’re able to look at life’s imperfections without summoning all the forces of your perfectionism. You’re able to enjoy pursuing something without murdering that joy at your own stumbles along the way.

I know that I, as a human, am so bad at prognosticating the future, let alone planning or resolving what I want that future to be like. And that’s not getting into the gargantuan task of finding the discipline and resolve to accomplish whatever cockamamy ambition I’ve proposed.*

It just seems to me that tattooing an “I will __________” statement over the coming year is starting with myself. And I’m tired of thinking about myself. I’m not that interesting — I can’t even read past Leviticus. I wonder how many people in my life I’ve missed because I was worried about some goal I stapled on a year. I wonder how much joy I’ve stifled because I didn’t live up to my expectations. I wonder if deep down, I’m more like a Bears quarterback than I think.

So for 2025, my resolution is to resolve nothing, and maybe just enjoy more of everything. Except the Bears, they’re terrible.

Happy New Year.

*My actual resolution this year is to use bigger words. How’d I do?