So here we are, back to the grind. Our sleep schedules are screwed up beyond any minute level of salvation and we’re still getting used to remembering Wednesdays don’t qualify as part of the weekend anymore. The 8 a.m. sun is, literally, the brightest thing to ever happen to your eyeballs. And I don’t know about you, but I can’t remember anything worse than having to actually get up and be ready for an entire day of lectures and note-taking.
This is what happens when you have a monthlong winter break. Sure, it’s fun for the first two, two-and-a-half weeks, but then it becomes normal. Going to bed before 3 a.m. is considered far too early and there’s no point in getting out of your pajamas before 5 p.m.
However, the cool thing about having such a long break is having enough time to kick-start all of those New Year’s resolutions you promised to commit to this year, for once.
Now, if you’re like most people, you probably made those resolutions Jan. 1 as you nursed a New Year’s Day hangover. You promised to drink less, work out more and be an all-around better human being.
But if you’re like me, you probably didn’t make a single resolution. Here’s the thing, and I’m gonna keep it real: Why would I announce all these optimistic promises of how I plan to change my life for the better if I have absolutely no intention of keeping them? Why, because I made it my Facebook status and tweeted it out to all 53 of my followers, should they be able to remind me in a month and a half when I stop going to the gym and keep slugging back vodka tonics that I have completely failed myself? I don’t think so.
I’ve done the next best thing. I’ve compiled a list of resolutions for this year that I have absolutely no intention of following. That way, when I inevitably screw them up (possibly all at the same time), no one can talk down to me because I promised I was doomed from the start. So, here you go:
1. Broaden my vocabulary and quit cussing like a g—damn sailor.
Now, my mom used to tell me that using expletives wasn’t “ladylike” and that I was never going to get a boyfriend with a “mouth like that.” While she may have been entirely right, I must counter with a question: What if I don’t want to bag a man with such a proper tongue? I do a lot of reading, and even more writing, and I still haven’t found a word to properly express myself better in any situation than my favorite four-letter word that rhymes with “tuck.”
2. Do assignments and readings early, thoroughly and precisely to maximize weekend fun and cut down stress.
If I bought myself a shot every time I promised myself I would stop procrastinating, I’d have died of alcohol poisoning in the eighth grade. A smart, well-rounded and sensible individual would do assignments when assigned and complete 85-page class readings in an organized and spread-out fashion to avoid the feeling of everything being due at the same time, thus inducing severe panic attacks. But let’s be real here, I watch a lot of crap TV and even though I can record four shows at once on my DVR, there’s no guarantee I won’t run out of memory now that I have high definition. So, if it ever comes down to reading 100 pages about research methods or the latest power hour of every desperate young spinster crying about the latest (and incredibly dopey) contestant of “The Bachelor,” I think it’s a pretty obvious choice.
3. Obtain a unique, awe-inspiring and almost nonsensical nickname.
This is something I’ve been striving toward for quite some time. All my life it’s been something stupidly adorable like “Halo,” or when I started dying my hair dark, “Brownie.” I need something tough, something that strikes fear into the hearts of many when uttered under someone’s breath in a quiet room. I’ll even settle for something equally hilarious and / or weird. What’s the best way to get something like that going? Please don’t tell me I have to do something dumb. I mean, I totally will, but I’d like to put in as little effort as possible. Why can’t something cool just fall into my lap? I’ve got to get something better than just a shortened version of my own name. I hear there’s a “Wizard” running around campus somewhere and he dressed as a traffic cone for Halloween one year. Why can’t I have a nickname with such a disparity between appearance and choice of masquerade attire? Besides, that fluorescent orange does bad things for my complexion.
So there it is. Happy 2012. Get all the stupid stuff out of your system while you can, because I’m pretty certain a large proportion of this school thinks the world is going to end in a short 11 months. As for me, I’ll be relaxing with my smarmy mouth, 40-inch Westinghouse high-definition TV, trying to make my new alias “Hay-Z” happen for myself.