MMM's New Year's Resolutions
As much as I hate goals of any kind, I can't allow 2025 to go the way of 2024. (I couldn't survive another 2024.)
I don’t do this every year—or even any year—but I’m so happy to say goodbye to 2024, that I’m making a commitment to improve in five ways.
For the record, New Year’s Resolutions are horseshit. The majority of people don’t make good on their intentions to take up yoga five days a week, eat more vegetables, refrain from alcohol, save 15 percent of their paycheck, adopt an alley cat, read one book, sail around the world, regain their virginity, and so on.
Don’t take my word for it: ChatGPT—otherwise known as the lazy man’s God—says that 23 percent of people give up their resolutions within the first week of January, and 20 percent more tap out by the end of the month. By the end of the year, fewer than 10 percent feel successful in upholding their resolutions. Of course, Americans, especially, have the tendency to fool themselves into thinking that they are the elite—the talented 10 percent—but if everyone is elite, then no one is elite. (Hint: I’m not. And if you’re reading this, you’re probably not either.)
My point isn’t that you shouldn’t try to improve yourself any way you can. I’m all about self-improvement. But I’m not about arbitrary kick-off dates (Jan. 1) or unrealistic goals and expectations that set a flawed individual up for unnecessary disappointment. Maybe the problem is the goal itself. Who said we need goals or resolutions anyway?
With this in mind, here are my New Year’s Resolutions:
Expect less from the Democrats and all other opposition to Trump: My goal here is to be pleasantly surprised when the Dems manage to obstruct even a little of Trump’s nefarious agenda. As badly as a I want a popular revolution, it’s definitely not a realistic expectation for 2025. I just hope Bernie Sanders lives to 2026—at least.
Relate well to others: This might seem nonsensical, given my relentless bashing of Republicans, loser liberals, and others I blame for our nation’s turmoil—but I need to get better at forgiving minor transgressions and opening myself up to feedback. The older I get the harder it is to make solid connections and the easier it is to lose them. I’m also a hell of a lot less patient with natural human deficiencies than I used to be, and those aren’t the kind of things I can expect to go away any time soon. (I also need more subscribers, so tell your friends.)
Be more patient: 2024 was a lost year—for a lot of people—but I sowed the seeds for a professional comeback in 2025. This past summer I established a consistent writing routine, which was near-impossible prior to quitting my tech job in late 2023. Everyone who’s tried to make it as a writer can attest to how mind-numbingly brutal it is to face critical (or no) feedback, rejection, and long delays between submission and response. Patience is everything. If you don’t have any, you better hope you have talent.
Stop giving a fuck: It’s very simple advice, but I do agree with the main premise of the book The Subtle Art of Not Giving a F*ck (by some privileged white dude who can afford to not give a fuck) that a central goal of adulthood should be to not give too many fucks. If you care too much about what other people think, you’ll lose your sense of self—which is why I’m unapologetically an asshole (at times). When I was a kid, I used to think adults were immune, or at least resistant, to this problem, but then social media came along and fucked us all. There’s no pride in being a sheep—or a lemming.
Be bold: I’m closing in on 40, and the temptation to look at the past with rose-colored lenses is overwhelming. Yes, a lot of shit is objectively way worse now than it was in my 20s, but that doesn’t mean the future is something to be feared. I could be way more of what I want to be in 2025 (and beyond) than I am now. This should be a source of excitement. Right now, it’s more of a source of anxiety. But it’s still 2024 as I write this: I’ll get there.
Happy New Year!