Nicole Cardoza | Editor in Chief
I love New Year’s resolutions. The start of a fresh, new year seems like the perfect time for me to start thinking of all the things I will accomplish in the next 365 days. I actually believe I will meet every goal I set – for about a week.
Seven days is how far I got this year. One snide comment on Jan. 8, and my resolution to stop making sarcastic statements about people behind their backs went down in flames.
I was back to my usual habit of making clever comments to get a laugh at the expense of others who are usually and conveniently not around to catch me being a jerk.
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According to a survey done by the Harrison Research Group in 2006, only 15 percent of Americans manage to keep their New Year’s resolutions. Which still makes me a jerk, but a normal one at least.
I have been known to stick to a resolution for a whole year, but mostly I don’t make it out of January without a few missteps. Some of my past resolutions read like a to-do list, “learn to knit, finish a triathlon, get someone to show you how to apply liquid eyeliner.” Some of them have been deep, soulful and generic: “Be brave, get healthy.” A few of them have been terrible ideas: “Go out with every guy who asks me.”
So maybe I won’t finish that triathlon this year, or make it through this semester without dropping any classes, or without getting any parking tickets, or not miss any deadlines for this newspaper – but probably I will just have to settle for the rewards I get for trying.
I don’t think success is the point of resolutions, but what we learn about ourselves while we are trying to make changes for the better. Think about it, if I was all the things I wish I was, then I would probably be pretty pleased with myself, which would be even more annoying than being a total smart-ass.
