Every January I am reminded, like clockwork exactly how much of a dork I am. I am a man that makes resolutions. I do every year. I am proud of it and no matter how much grief I get from my kids for it I will continue my customary drive to improve.
My daughter will tell you that my “resolution obsession is rooted in my unnatural love of failure.”
Not true! My love of failure is mostly natural.
My son will quickly volunteer his own insight “Your whole resolution issue is stupid, hokey, and lame, as well as a bit sad.” While he is mostly completely wrong about resolutions it is true that I embody 2 of those four qualities.
I found research in the journal of clinical psych that says that I only have a 14% chance of success, but that is because I turned 50. When I was grouped in the under 50 category and we had a 39% success rate. (Getting old stinks) But the way I think about it is not statistical. I figure I have a chance to be a better person than I was last year. It won’t cost me anything, it won’t hurt me, and even if I only manage to be improved for a couple month I am still better off than I was before.
That research also shows that will be more successful if I make small measurable resolutions, and if I make those resolutions public. So here you go:
• I will write and publish exactly 300 words every week. (this is the first of those essays)
• I will use Twitter to contribute to worthwhile conversations and not as an echo chamber.
• I will continue my streak of “Stupid, hokey lame” traditions in an effort to continue to improve and grow.