The Purity of Seltzer


It’s only January 5th and I think I’ve already broken two thirds of my resolutions.

I’m so hungry right now, that by tomorrow I reckon I’ll have blown #1. No eating between meals. I’m so hungry, I had dinner already and I’m itching for a bedtime snack. It really sucks when you can see the cave-in coming. It’s like just by going on the diet, I’ve already cheated. It’s just been a question of how long I can keep from actualizing my failure.

Frankly, losing weight has never held any appeal. It’s counter-intuitive to lose weight. We grow up thinking that feasts, banquets and plenty to eat is a good thing. The image of skinny equates to starved. We’re supposed to gain gravitas. Be a big man around campus. Have my opinions carry some weight. And really, most of all, we hate to lose. Losing is un-American as far as we are concerned, regardless of what the world thinks of us now, we are not born losers. Maybe if instead of loss, I thought about dropping an anchor, or shedding my burdens, word games yes, but in the wee hours standing barefoot in front of the fridge, peering in, words might just tip the scales. Maybe. But too late now, because I’m already a winner. I say yes to life! Fat means More, More means Good.

Numbers 16 and 8 went on Jan 1, didn’t even put up a fight. I’m not planking for an hour each day, I could barely lay down much less peer up to my desktop computer to watch the video on Planking 101. Number 8, another daily extravagance, be Device Free for two hours straight, blew that one trying to push it off as late as possible into the night. Then I woke up. Number 10, Meditate for an hour a day, sits on the borderline of blown because I’m giving myself the hour, even if as soon as I begin the meditating I fall asleep. Napitation was the word I came up with after meditating. Resolution number 23, Be Kinder to myself, dictates that my napitation counts as meditation because frankly, I do feel much better after that hour of medinapping.

I’m proud that I’m keeping number 11 alive, Learn something new every day. Every day I’ve learned that I just can’t keep certain resolutions.

I did manage to start resolution number 2, go to the gym on Jan 2. It’s a lot better doing the New Year’s gym deal than the Thanksgiving Gym deal, if you know what I mean…mmm turkey gas. I went today as well, and it was so crowded I couldn’t get a locker, so I left to try and meditate. It counts though, I think. I mean, I did try to go. Clever me, I only got the seven day free trial membership so if I blow that resolution. I’m hedged up against number 4 by not spending the $500 on a membership. I seem to be taking resolution number 19 to heart by increasing my IQ.

Number 6. I quit smoking. Cigarettes. Joints don’t count as cigarettes, even if some old hippies like to call them Maryjawanna cigarettes. No-one’s called them that for ages, and they’re not the same kind of filthy habit as smokes. Vaping… should that count? I don’t think so, the jury is still out on that one, so until they come back and cast their first stones, I’m vaping. But no more ciggies. People say that’s the hardest resolution to keep, and so far I’m doing it!

Number 7, read more. More what? I read a lot. Texts, emails, articles. Listicles should count as condensed reading worth three or four times normal reading. Because? Because they are packed with meaning and information. I think I meant books, though, when I made the list. And I have failed this one so far.

Number 20 is one of those things that I don’t actually buy into. Gladwell posits that you need 10,000 hours to become a master at something. That’s 417 days straight. That means it would take 1,251 eight hour shift days, meaning something like three and a half years to master being counter-help at Tacobell. I call bullshit on that, Malcolm. I can master that a LOT faster. I haven’t tried yet, but I think I could learn a new skill before this year’s resolutions expire.

Number 21, make a new friend, how long is that supposed to take? According to the interwebs, 200 hours to BFF status. For men, I think. For women it’s twice that. There’s a reason for that difference and I may have to napitate on it. Anyway, 200 hours is like eight days. SO if you’re stuck in a lifeboat for eight days with someone, either you’re full or you have a new BFF. I’ll have to charter a cruise.

The thing that’s killing me right this second is Resolution Number 11 Quit Drinking. This is a tough one, with my increased IQ from resolution 19, I can clearly see that I have to stop drinking. Good bye my friend Ginny. Good bye my old pal Wodkah. Bubye little meister jager meister. So long scotch and soda. Ciao Martini and Rossi Asti spumante. And damn it all, my adult soda pop. Beer. I have to quit drinking beer. I have quit. I’m replacing it with Seltzer water. Instead of the salty hops, I’m going to fall in love with the purity of seltzer. The fresh lively bubbles, the bright wash of carbonation. The cleanliness that’s next to godliness.

One day at a time.

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The one resolution I’ve tried to keep every year for the past ten years. Resolution #23: In 2019, I’ll try not to be quite such an asshole.

Sometime In a New Year

The Purity of Seltzer

Old Long Since

The Clean Slate

The Quadriplegic

New Year’s Un-Resolution