Skip to main content

New Year's Revolution

It's not exactly like making a secret wish and blowing out the birthday candles, but I've usually been hesitant to share my New Year's resolutions because experience tells me that I probably won't keep them.  

I don't like goals--or at least the discussion about goals.  Anytime someone starts going on about the importance of setting goals I feel like I'm being forced to watch an infomercial or listen to a pitch for a timeshare at Shady Meadows Family Resort and Oil Change.

For a few years I've tried to be cheeky about the whole thing.  "My New Year's resolution is to keep my New Year's resolution."  I know it's not particularly humorous, but that will teach people to ask.

This year, though, I've tried something different.  I decided to set a goal and actually try to stick to it.  I'm proud to say--now that we are more than a quarter of the way through the year--that I have managed to stick by my resolution with near perfect accuracy.

(Drum roll please.)

I have resolved to use the revolving door at work.

(And now the cymbal.)

I know it's about as noteworthy as something you'd expect a TV celebrity to tout during a public service announcement, but it's something and it has consequence.  First, I no longer feel guilty for ignoring the signs that say "please use the revolving door" as I follow the masses through the normal doors on either side of the revolving door.  Second, I can now assume a smug look on my face when the facilities groups sends out an email about the costly heating/cooling bill that comes from the perpetually open doors of a pressurized building.  Third, I no longer have to come up with convoluted rationalizations for my behavior like how I'm actually reducing the per capita energy loss per door by following someone else out.

Now, I can happily saunter into my office any old time with a mild swivel and spring in my step knowing that I'm better than everyone else.  I can even make a complete revolution or two or three if I feel like it and not worry about looking silly.  None of those other earth-killing, crowd-following, door-swinging lemmings has the courage to look me in the eye.  They can just keep on stepping and hope the door doesn't hit them on the way out.

Comments

Thelma said…
You were better than everyone else far before the revolving door thing.
Olivia Cobian said…
In college my friend Melissa and I set a manageable goal--wearing the same pair of pants for a week. We felt good about ourselves and were able to accomplish it. I wonder if it had anything to do with our lack of social life?

Popular posts from this blog

Moving to Graduate School

I have been thinking a lot about my father this week. On Monday I helped Braeden and Anna move all of their belongings out of Deleward and into a moving truck bound for Woodland, CA where Braeden starts graduate school at nearby UC Davis next month. As I walked from the truck parked on 400 East across the lawn and up the stairs, my mind flashed back to 24 years earlier when I was moving out of the same apartment building, walking across the same grass, and loading up my own moving truck with the help of my dad.  Braeden was just eight months old at the time. I can still see him sitting in the grass with my dad, Thelma, and cheap-enough-that-we-could-afford-it pizza and bread sticks from Sounds Easy. It meant everything to have my dad there with me. Looking back on it I realize that Thelma was the real star. I was working right up to the very end. As with all of our moves, she did the bulk of the packing and planning. I was just the muscle. I was nervous about moving from Provo, Uta...

Craving

A list of things I'm craving: Something interesting to design A veggie sandwich on great bread that's too big to eat Chocolate chip cookies Riding a wave runner until my body aches Pizza, any shape, any quality Basketball season A solution to my landscaping dilemmas Another month of summer A way to easily hang bicycles from a 16-foot ceiling A compelling reason to use Google+

Awake. Again.

I arrived home from work with just enough daylight and just enough Spring to mow the lawn.  Braeden and I reveled in the straight lines and greening blades.  "It's the awakening," he said. — I sat in the temple and smiled at the sight of Emma and Braeden sitting side by side, quiet and content.  Outside the temple, we stared up at the stained glass, the angel, the glowing walls.  I asked Emma how she felt.  "Light and airy," she replied. — Driving home from the airport, I listened to my mother describe her trip to Disneyland with Megan, Talia and Jackson.  "If your dad were still alive..." she began to say.  For the first time, I smiled and laughed instead of fighting back tears. — Awake. Light. Laugh. Alive. Again. — Everyone is asleep.  I sit down to write.  I don't cry.  I don't turn away.  It's a change.  I can write again, at last.  But it's not the same as Before.  Everything seems differ...