I am not one for New Year’s resolutions. I know the things I perpetually need to do and yet do not: drink water, drink much less coffee and/or Diet Pepsi, and manage my files better. I’ll do these, I’m sure but I just see New Year’s resolutions as doomed to fail. Perhaps it is that I see first-hand year after year how packed my gym is as I wait to get a treadmill or a weight machine in January yet by February at any given time no less than half the machines are abandoned.
It is, seemingly, simply the labeling of something as a resolution that puts an extra amount of undue importance on it and it is over before it has begun. I want no part in such failure so early in the year; thus, I refuse to set myself up for it.
I am much better at making large goals, even seemingly ridiculous ones in scope or aim. Typically these are never related to changing what I already do or am but rather are aimed in the other direction — the addition to what I have done, know, seen, and read.
When I am in a competition with only myself I can do extraordinary things. My one goal last year was to read 55 books. I set and then tracked this goal all year on goodreads.com and am pleased with myself, for I have read not only the 55 books set out to but also an additional 6.
What will I learn, see, or hear next year? I have not decided. I don’t know what I could aim for that could be so easily measured but that isn’t the point. I don’t even think that any one of the books I read, nor the total of the books is the point. It is the looking back and saying, “that’s pretty impressive.” How often do we give ourselves a gold star even when one is due? I daresay not nearly enough.