Why Every Year Is Terrible, And Hoping For The Best Is a Waste of Time
New Year’s Resolutions are for suckers
2017 is coming to an end — and as usual the New Year is hovering with great expectations as web dwellers divulge all the reasons why 2018 is going to be the ultimate game-changer. There’s also echos of how and why the year that’s almost over — sucked beyond belief.
It’s a habit I also readily indulged in — until I welcomed a milestone birthday and realized that watching people convince themselves of how a new slate requires updated digits — was much more fun.
The truth is that every year is fucking terrible — and wishing for the best each time you survive into the next 365 days is a bloody waste of time.
It’s a all a mind-fuck that trains us into believing that somehow when the midnight hour arrives — the honor of beginning afresh will magically ensure that we will bypass the horridness of death, disruption and penetrating disillusionment.
New Year’s resolutions traditionally serve as the launching pad for those who spent the prior year trying to cater to the list they made the year before that. It’s a maddening cycle of discontent that takes you everywhere — except the destination you were assigned.
The truth is that all the years pretty much blend into one large and expanding quilt that has blots of ink splattered in recognition of how life can levy a swift blow without any warning. Then there are pleasure sensors that are embedded in the vibrant threads of relief and joy — and that really has nothing to do with prayers or the time of year.
For most of us who are resolute in our belief that shit happens when you’re watching and even shittier shit goes down when you’re distracted from the rules of existing — the notion of discarding each passing year that contains very similar contents with the authority of disgust or nonfulfillment is almost like taking a dump on the process of living to the fullest.
Whining about missing out on the “perfect year” is thoroughly unreasonable when you consider that as human beings — we are owed nothing. The mere fact that we were allowed to visit this earth for a brief time is a miracle — and whatever transpires beyond our ability to breathe and utilize our faculties for our betterment is an added bonus.
Bad things are supposed to happen because that’s the only way the good stuff can feel as awesome as it should.
The territory of social media has only helped to heighten our desire to make every day of the year a seamless caricature of what Instagram dictates — when you examine the pages of liars who thrive from the numerical highs that always lead to silent woes.
Resolutions should be daily affirmations that are fashioned according to personal growth and the evolving goals that shift without the assistance of fireworks and fountains of champagne.
It’s dramatic and even religious to place all your bets on a new year and truly believe that it will manifest “all the good” that was trapped in transition, but all we really have is the day to day, which is absolutely fine because that’s really all we can handle.
So, instead of the grand performance that demands the lengthy creed of how 2018 will kick ass — why not try figuring out why you didn’t do exactly that in 2017 or 2016. And instead of crowning the New Year with unrealistic tendencies of perfection — why not hope for the blessing of challenges and the spirit of conquering daily goals with gusto.
At the end of the day — it’s really the little things that count.