I’m usually not a big New Year’s resolution gal. Much like in my approach to writing, I feel that living life by the seat of my pants is the easiest approach to the betterment of my existence. It seems to me that setting too many goals only leads to letdown. As in, I am let down by myself because of my unique inability to accomplish a simple to-do list.
So instead of a New Year’s resolution list, I am compiling a list of all the reasons why I’m probably holding a one-way ticket to the infernal nether world.
It’s what I like to call my New Year’s Blaze Craze.
A shit-list, if you will.
Then once all of my wrongdoings are fully realized in published form, I can begin the long, harrowing journey of overcoming my impending damnation.
Now that’s a New Year’s Resolution Plan if I’ve ever heard one.
1) I vape.
Not only do I vape, but I also relentlessly try to convince smokers to convert to vaping. Yeah. I’m one of those people. I do this with such consistency that one of the millions of vaping companies should hire me as their head marketing representative.
I may as well be getting paid for this shit.
2) Sometimes, when I’m walking my dog and need to change the song I’m listening to on my phone, I’ll let the vape pen (yes, I walk and vape) hang in the corner of my mouth.
Sure, it’s OK to do this with an unobtrusive and slim cigarette — pretty sure this is the first time the words unobtrusive and cigarette have been combined in a sentence since the 1950s — but when it’s a bulky vaping apparatus, this move simply looks insane.
I know this, and yet I will continue to do it.
3) While sitting in the Walmart parking lot and checking my online banking to see how much money I don’t have in my account before entering the hellscape of the store for Boxing Day, I noticed a person sauntering in front of my car.
Without thinking, I muttered, “eew,” for no reason other than the fact that I am a despicable human being. Then a second thought came to me, “Not everyone can be as amazing as you, Lindsay.”
If this doesn’t mean I’m going to end up in hell, I don’t know what does.
4) I listen to my own podcast regularly.
5) I re-read my articles at least once a day.
6) I laugh at my own jokes on both these platforms more than I’ve ever laughed at anyone else’s.
7) When I was 12, and my brother was nine, and we’d be walking to the school bus on our interminably long gravel driveway, I’d make him trudge through 3-foot high snowdrifts in front of me so he could break the trail to make the journey less difficult for me.
8) I once told my kid’s elementary school teacher to fuck off because she called me saying she had found my blog, and she thought that the things I wrote about were “inappropriate to publish” as a mother of young children.
I hold firm that I was totally in the right in that situation.
9) I often worry that I will become a bitter old woman because I was so busy looking after my family that I never could bring my career aspirations to fruition.
Oooph, things just got dark.
10) I have a deeply pressing urge to start random and absurd conspiracy theories on Facebook just to see how many of my stupid Facebook friends will believe them despite me having provided no actual proof of any of these claims.
11) I once flooded my apartment by having a spontaneous water fight with my roommates.
The damage was devastating.
You know what, as I write this list out (with no end in sight), it’s occurred to me that I’m never going to be able to right all these wrongs. So if you can’t beat ’em, keep writing stories and pray that the big guy upstairs has a sense of humour.
This post was previously published on MEDIUM.COM.
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