Insert Foot: Is 2021 worth your resolutions? We’re not on fire … yet

Insert Foot, resolutions, 2021

Insert Foot and his new, imaginary “dog” vs. 2021 resolutions.

They were totally right: Everything immediately changed in 2021!

I woke up New Year’s Day four inches taller, with body fat down to three percent, next to an intelligently hilarious and gorgeous woman/scholar who loved my scent. Two snuggly puppies bursting with love jumped into bed with me, while sunshine flooded the room, illuminating a hot plate of rare steak and golden shrimp sitting next to the wheelbarrow full of cash from my first novel selling out nationwide. My children obediently stood for inspection in the next room, after rising at 5 a.m. to take down the holiday decor and neatly pack it in boxes for easy storage. A steaming cup of freshly ground caffeine and the newspaper sat on the kitchen table, next to tickets for a flight to Hawaii, via Disneyland, later in the day. The room smelled of tropical flora and birds sang softly. Was that the trickling sound of a babbling creek?

My goodness; this year seems to be working out quite splendidly so far.

Then I really woke up, alive, with the cat slapping me across the face for missing arbitrary feeding time, which seems to change daily.

Happy New Year.

Did anyone expect anything different? Well … maybe not yet. Alive and not on fire is a plus for now. These things take time.

I did get out and walk some miles the first day of 2021. I even saw a coyote, which was really cool … until it changed direction and started trotting toward me.

Nature is awesome until it decides to get you involved.

Of course, I would like to make some things happen in my world in 2021. Call them resolutions, goals … a reason to get out of bed each day before the cat slaps begin. Resolutions are different than wants, and last year was an uber-effective lesson in best laid plans.

Either way, it’s pretty simple. I’d like a better year, and thanks for asking. I would like to create some things of which I’m proud one year from now.

No … no more creating children. There are enough … too many, for the time we give them. I need to give the ones I have more time. But since it’s the traditional time to plan, I’d like to create, repair and strengthen some relationships.

I’d like to spend less time in front of a screen. And find more reasons to wear pants. Though follow-through doesn’t always happen (like the time I promised to talk like Foghorn Leghorn all year).

I would like to make some music I keep threatening people with, preferably with old friends with whom I have enjoyed doing so in the past. Same for finishing one of my 79 long-term writing projects that are currently anything but long.

I would like a new dog, preferably one that plays poker.

I would love to discover a new favorite band. Which isn’t code for “send me as many garage band demos as possible.” Though if you assure me your singer sounds like Foghorn Leghorn…

One thing that seems to keep coming up in conversations is the idea of living an honest life. It sounds tremendously appealing; and likely eliminates politics or advertising as big career moves this year.

Is it too late to go into outer space?

I would love to be financially successful enough in 2021 to help cushion whatever’s coming–which it always is–for the people I love. I would love to sound like a worn-out cliché by telling myself I’m making something, somewhere, a little bit better.

I would love to resolve to simply be better; not in a Melania Trump “How did I get here and what do you mean I need a slogan and/or something to do for the next four years” sort of way. But really be better, without wishing, then sitting around waiting for someone else to make it happen.

There’s apparent magic in resolutions, as if thinking them makes them so. If we want a better year, we have to build it that way. Wishes are lovely, but empty without some real will behind them. Same for people writing things.

Enough from me. Let’s make some things happen this year.

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