Epiphanies and Equations, Or Why I Feel a Trip to the Beach Coming On

2012 has begun, and I have failed to spout forth a resolution. I am the equivalent of an algebraic equation: unresolved. In my defense, I am not a fan of math—unless it's one plus one equals an incredible afternoon of delight.

While having lunch with my BFF—the absolute smartest person I know, besides me* (obviously), I enjoyed two epiphanies. Actually, I didn't enjoy them so much as I was unhinged by them. And since BFF also serves as my personal GPS (Global Perspective Sister), her trademark poignant line of questioning assured that I would locate my epiphanies somewhere over Pollo Enchiladas and Fish Tacos. When last we found me there, I was crying into a bottle of cerveza and pondering the mating habits of sand crabs, where I left my cover-up, and why zinc oxide can't just be clear.

Okay, so . . . Epiphany One. Apparently, a person can have a few too many loose ends in her life, and the preponderance of said loose ends can make a normally together person feel all sorts of unresolved and, well, icky. Math wiz that I am, the equation looks like this: Too many loose ends = too many variables = overwhelm = risk aversion = a disturbing bout of inertia. Sure, I oversimplified, but who can function with that kind of resistance?

Epiphany Two. My discombobulation, heretofore known as Epiphany One, is a major buzz kill equivalent to, say, a borborygmic pressure cooker. Yeah. Quiz later. Anywho, no avoiding it. Before you can make a resolution you'll keep, you have to be clear on your shit. You have to know what you can and can't live without, what you have control of and what you don't, what will make you the happiest, what you're willing to walk away from, and what will take care of itself. Plus, how many carbs are in a slice of margherita pizza—or the whole thing with maybe some pineapple. Or more precisely, would I benefit from a nice getaway in the sun, sand, and surf instead of thinking so hard? These are things I must get to the bottom of.

In summary, time to shore up my loose ends so I can really enjoy my next big adventure with a clear conscience, a joyful heart, and a renewed zest for life. Who knows, 2012 could be my best, brightest, biggest year ever. Maybe it will even be Apocalyptic. Hey, I think I'm having another epiphany.
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* and HSM, but I'm not telling him that cuz, well, there are only so many kudos you can freely bestow upon a Hot Sexy Man before he reminds you about them, like when he posits how you can be Mensa material one minute and a laughable 12-year-old the next. Clearly, I'm not a 12-year-old (I know you are, but what am I?); I'm just flexible (that's what HE said!) on an intellectual level.

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I Hereby Don't Resolve to Achieve Something

The 2010 New Year is upon us, and everybody in Bloggyville is talking about resolutions. Shyaaaah! Don't you people realize? A New Year's resolution is something that goes in one year and out the other! I have been down this road before, most recently in 2009, and I totally don't remember a thing I vowed to do. Partly, I was medicated. Other partly, I'm a shoot-from-the-hip kind of girl anyway and . . . well, I forget stuff.

So what point is there in setting you people up with expectations I will never meet? I'd be all, "My glorious resolutions are blah, blah, blah," and then go off on a tangent neither of us was expecting, upsetting the delicate balance of our relationship. Like when I say, "I resolve to be less irreverent." Bwaaah-ha-ha! That's totally not happenin', but you get my point that then reverting to frat-boy humor with Penis Week would just make me a big fat, um, liar. Who needs that kind of pressure? I'm entirely too fragile.

I'd rather go with the flow and then switch things up when it feels right or when it feels wrong. I am messy like that. Inadvertently, I may disappoint people. I will totally feel sucky about it, but I'm cool with change. It's accountability that bites me in the ass when I'm just not ready to commit and/or I forget I'm supposed to do something. I would have to guilt myself when I don't spring forth with an exuberant "SCORE!" and even my best friends (those bitches) would gladly buy me a ticket on the Flagellation Freighter.

And frankly, this Christmas I'm just too full of casseroles and cookies to submit myself to the public scrutiny of a failed resolution. Instead, how about if I just let you know if I achieve something -- anything -- if and when I remember. I'll be like your personal reporter, on the scene, the moment I make my parents proud--I swear to you, that has happened before. What it was . . . I forget.
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