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You are here: Home / Random / HAPPY NEW YEAR, MOTHER FUCKERS!

HAPPY NEW YEAR, MOTHER FUCKERS!

December 31, 2012 by Mona Andrei Leave a Comment

Well the world didn’t end after all because here. We. Are. And although I knew deep down that the Mayans just got tired of pumping out year after year of calendars and had no clue that we would read into this like the serial psycho-analytical society that we’ve become, I did spend part of a certain day this month actually looking forward to the end. It was a crappy day and now that it’s in the past, I don’t even remember WHY I was looking forward to the 21st being the last day ever. Possibly it was the morning I realized that I had run out of coffee but more than likely it was the afternoon that I realized I’d run out of wine.

Either way, here we are about to embark on a new year.

There’s just something about a shiny new calendar that makes you feel like anything is possible (with the right amount of caffeine in your system). The beginning of a new year is like a clean slate for making dreams come true.

This is possibly how New Year’s Resolutions got started; the optimistic set-up for self promises and hopes of achievements – no matter how badly you may have failed at (insert aspiration here) in the past.

I did some in-depth research (in the name of a very reliable source of social media) about New Year’s Resolutions last week and uncovered something very interesting.

After asking my friends on Facebook for their thoughts on the subject I was quite surprised by their answers:

“Resolutions end up getting broken!”

“Don’t get me started!”

“I resolute to not make any!”

Clearly resolutions have lost their magic and society in general is in big trouble.

Also, our excessive use of exclamation marks is a sure sign that we’re very passionate about this disillusionment. Although the inclusion of these high impact punctuation marks may be my own interpretation of how my friends MEANT to express themselves. (Obviously they were reaching out to me for help.)

But not all hope in hope is lost.

This morning I was at the gym and noticed several new faces. I know what you’re thinking. All the new faces is simply an indication that I’ve been spending more time at the yoga studio lately and that MY face was the new one.

Not so.

These people were NOT regular gym-goers – this I could tell because they were fat. And I don’t mean the I-ate-too-much-turkey-over-the-holidays fat. I’m talking about the
I’ve-been-eating-too-much-everything-since-I’ve-been-old-enough-to-pee fat.

And seeing the skin on their pudgy, round faces bounce as they managed a slow trot on the treadmill is the biggest sign of all that resolutions are not dead.

And therefore hope is not dead.

I have a New Year’s Resolution that I’m going to share with you. You may have already guessed by the title of this post but I’ll spell it out anyway.

I RESOLVE TO STOP WRITING FOR THE VOICES IN MY HEAD.

Yes, I realize that I sound like Sybil right now and trust me, this has more to do with multiple personalities than you know. And possibly the reason why I never seem to be able to sleep for more than 13 minutes at a time.

The other day I read that we are not a body with a soul but a soul with a body and it got me to thinking that what the author probably MEANT to say is that we are a flask with several hundred spirits – some of which comes in liquid form and is the stuff that holds us all together – skin, bone, organs AND voices.

2013 is the year that I shed my skin of polite consideration and shut those voices up.

And while I agree that there’s a place for professionalism and self-censorship, THIS IS NOT IT.

I resolve to live the rest of my life with my full Moxie-Dude potential. And I realize that I may lose some of you. But if you’re still here, reading this, I can only assume that it means that you’re on board with me, to which I say:

“YAYYY!!!”

And to which I ask:

“What do you resolve to change, commit to, for 2013? How will you live up to your full Moxie-Dude potential?

PS. This isn’t a real PS but I just noticed that the word count of this post was a certain unmentionable number that I consider bad luck and needed to add a few extra words. There. We’re all safe now.

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