I am not making any New Year's resolutions this year.
Why, you ask me - why am I not participating in the New Year's spirit like everyone else? Because I know that I'm incapable of holding to any resolutions I might make.
I could resolve to blog everyday...but I know I'll fail to do it one day and that'll blow the whole thing.
I could resolve not to bite my nails...but I know that the first time I'm really stressed out or upset my nails will be back in mouth, drenched in Amber slobber.
I could resolve not to eat gluten (my mom is gluten intolerant)...but invariably I will break down at dinner somewhere and end up stuffing a roll in my mouth.
I appreciate the concept of making resolutions, of wanting to break bad habits and start good ones, but I am also realistic about who I am and what I'm capable of. I don't want to rain on anyone else's parade. If you're a good resolution keeper then by all means do it...but I'm just tired of feeling guilty about the things I can't control.
So I eat my fingers, so I don't exercise as much as I should or eat as well as I ought to...that doesn't mean I should kick the crap outta myself. We are just as much our failures and flaws as we are our successes...and, frankly, I don't think there's anything wrong with celebrating our mess-ups a little bit.
This year I am not resolving to do anything. Instead I am going to celebrate my failures and screw ups. I'm gonna try and learn from them, appreciate them for what they are and study them so I can have a little better insight into myself.
On that note:
Here's to the six Rum and Pineapple drinks I had last night.
Here's to the two hours of hardcore vomiting I did last night.
Here's to the insight I had into myself because of the drinking and vomiting.
Here's to what I learned from the whole lovely experience: Don't f*cking drink so much, idiot.