Jumping on the New Year's Resolution Bandwagon...

Surprise! It’s New Years again. That time of year when everyone pretends they have the motivation to start (and continue) with something new. The time of the year when gyms are packed, healthy food flies off the shelf, and volunteer organizations have record high numbers of…well…volunteers.

And then comes February and life is as it was the year before. After all, change is a bitch.

I always seem get especially impassioned around this time of year. Not because I get to spend more time with family or because I thought of the best New Year’s resolution to date, quite the contrary: It’s because I believe I am the one human being on this planet that does not look forward to the New Year. But as much as I despise the New Year, I can’t seem to explain why that makes sense to anyone… not even to myself.

I look on the New Year in a cup-half-empty kind of way (shocker). I mean, think about it, there is another 365 days (366 in 2012) that we have to get through till the end of the year. No, not in an optimistic Woohoo-I-have-another-365-days-to-accomplish-my-goals way, but in a pessimistic, I-have-another-365-blinkin’-days-until-I-can-start-again way. Here comes the clincher: You would think that mentality makes me look forward to the New Year, right?

But no.

Because then I have another 365 days to get through…

I’m a walking contradiction. It makes no sense. I know, yes thanks for giving me that look.

Anyway, so personal feelings aside, as we all know one tradition (that just will not die) around New Years is to make resolutions. And from my experience there are some that are SO much more poplar than others. Namely:

* Getting in shape/going to the gym/exercising more, or any variation thereof. (It's a notable resolution for sure, and one most doctors would be proud of, but how many years will we repeat the same half-hearted resolution only to fail, once again, at accomplishing it?)

* Stop smoking/Eat better/Stop drinking, etc. etc. (Yes, I'm all for people stopping smoking--it's a disgusting habit; or eating healthier--McDonald's will be the death of this nation; or drinking less for that matter--people make stupid decision when they drink, but do it with a friend. Because going cold turkey alone will lead to nothing except a healthy dose of whatever it was you were trying to give up as a consolation for the fact that you couldn't do it.)

Then, of course, you always get the I'm-so-witty resolution of "I resolve to not make any more New Year's resolutions!" Right. Tell yourself what you want but you're not clever, original, or smart.

My dad came up with an intriguing resolution, which I believe he has already endeavored to achieve: breaking habits.

As he said, his life had become a game of habit. Waking up, doing the same things day in and day out, visiting the same people, at the same time, on the same days; going to the same pubs to watch his rugby matches, for the same amount of time, on the same days of the week.

Are you tired yet?

So Dad decided that this year (well, next) he was going to break those habits. Instead of going to the same pub, he’d go to another where he wasn’t a regular. Instead of having tea with his neighbor on Sunday, he’d do it…well…whenever he felt like it. It’s amazing how little old ladies can get so stuck in their ways, hopefully she’ll be able to handle the new schedule too.

Anyway, what struck me about this resolution is that it is fresh. Sure not everyone can do it; I mean I have a job, habit is part of my life, but for a retiree, I think it is ingenious.

So with this in mind I began thinking of what I would resolve to accomplish in the New Year. It has been so long since I've made a resolution but I've decided that this year I'll jump on the bandwagon and see what all the fuss is about. It has been a long road though, choosing my resolution, I mean I already keep fit by doing Insanity. I already eat fairly healthy, don’t smoke, barely drink. I already spend more time with my sister on this side of the country and I’ve already decided I’m going to start learning Italian (I just have to start…).

So after much thinking and reading back over some blogs I wrote a while ago, I've come to the conclusion that in 2012...

I resolve to be more optimistic.

That's right, less pessimism and more optimism.

It will be a tough road for sure, and no doubt it will be accompanied by many a strange look, but the possibility is intriguing: can one actually make oneself optimistic? Or are pessimistic thoughts something one is born with?

Thoughts?

Things I L.O.V.E. to H.A.T.E.

Let’s talk for a minute about pet peeves. You know that feeling you get that starts deep down, maybe emanating from your bones, that just takes over your whole body, tingling your skin, or sends your mind into overdrive, steam blowing out your ears, when you hear that one word, or see that one thing (or 10) that you would say you quite possibly hate the most in the world?

Okay, maybe that is a slight over-exaggeration, but for a hothead such as myself, it’s not that far off really. When I read, or hear, or see one of the things I would classify as a pet peeve, my brain shuts down for a second, possibly as a defense mechanism? Maybe it is a way to protect myself from the stupidity I had just been subjected to, because in essence, my pet peeves are attributed to other people’s stupidity...well, most of them anyway...

So without further ado, I’d like to share them with you, in the hopes that I’m not the only person on the planet bothered by these things.

Pet Peeve No. 1: “your” and “you’re”

Now I’ve heard a lot of people express distaste for this grammatically incorrect error, and yet, even they make it. I’m going to be brutally honest here: It’s an American thing. To my best recollection, I never ran across it with such frequency in South Africa. I used to attribute it to being a simple typing error, and then I heard it in a song and I thought: if they don’t even know the difference in pronunciation, how the hell can we expect them to spell it properly on paper?

Needless to say, that is not an excuse and my skin still cringes whenever I see the error on paper (or on Facebook where it abounds!...Side note: when do you think Microsoft will add the word “Facebook” to their dictionary?) So let me see if I can clarify this for all of you 'your'-ers out there when you should really be saying 'you’re':

Your = possessive pronoun, as in “your dog just pooped in my yard.” You’re = the contraction of ‘you are’, as in “you’re (you are) going to have to pick that sh** up yourself.” Thank you for your cooperation. It will go a long way toward keeping me sane.

Pet Peeve No. 2: “déjà vu all over again”

I hear this frequently, even by professionals on the morning CBS news. According to Merriam Webster, déjà vu literally means: a feeling that one has seen or heard something before. I like to define it as the feeling that you have been through something before, or more simply, that you are reliving an experience, or even more simply, that something is happening again. Hence “déjà vu all over again” is a redundant statement. What is redundant? “Characterized by or containing an excess; specifically: using more words than necessary.” Déjà vu suffices to mean, “Man, I swear I’ve been through this before!” don’t be obnoxious by adding the 'all over again', because what I hear is, “Man, I swear this is happening all over again all over again” [repetition intended], and who wouldn’t be annoyed by someone saying that?!?

Pet Peeve No. 3: Running water

When you hear the soothing sound of a brook flowing, I hear the sound of thousands of gallons of water being wasted when we’re in a water shortage. Okay, maybe not very much of that sentence is true, as far as I know we aren’t in a drought and water flowing in a brook isn’t being wasted, unless I claimed that that is good water that has gone to waste as it isn’t being used… which would probably lead to a public outcry over my dislike, nay hatred, for the earth. Again, not true.

What I do hate though, is the sound of water running from a tap (aka faucet in America). For example, the incessant drip drip drip of a tap that hasn’t been closed properly. Or the sound of the water running as someone takes a shower or brushes their teeth. It sends shivers down my spine. I have to consciously ignore the sound or move to a room where I don’t hear it. It’s that bad. Thankfully though, or by miraculous design, it doesn’t bother me as I’m the one taking the shower or brushing my teeth. Otherwise, I know a few people who wouldn’t want to be around my stinky, unbathed, unbrushed self.

Pet Peeve No. 4: Idiots

So you know how when you’re driving and you’re coming up on a car that has its brake lights on in front of you so you move over so as not to have to brake and then the lane you moved in to slows down even more than the one you were in to begin with but you already lost your place so can’t move back over? (I swear I just wrote that entire run-on sentence without taking a breath.) Ya. That pisses. me. off. to a degree no human being should have to be put through.

Sometimes I’m driving and I like to think they’re doing it just to spite me (seriously). I’ll be in lane A and the car in front of me slows down. So I move to lane B, but for no reason at all that car slows down and the car in lane A moves past us, so I move into lane A and low and behold the idiot in the car decides to slow down again while the car in lane B flies by. At that point I can guarantee that no one would want to be in the car with me...

There was a time, not all that long ago, when it seemed I had gained a small percentage of the patience I never had. I attributed it to my boyfriend, who is inhuman in his ability not to get frustrated. Sadly though, being away from him for the past year has led to me revert back with an even higher degree of impatience, as if the demons are punishing me for leaving the dark side for that brief spell.

Anyway at times it seems like the harder I try to stay calm, the more people do to try to push me over the edge, so what’s the point in trying?

The Height of "Are You For Real?"

What is it about traveling that turns even the most hardcore pessimists into even worse cynics? Didn’t see that one coming did you? Fine, or that turns optimists into pessimists?

In my case, I’m not the latter, so…

I’m a pessimist by nature, I believe. I have the worst luck on the planet, which I very recently learned I inherited from my father, who has the second worst luck on the planet. I took a brief foray into optimism a few short months ago but, in the end, I just find naysaying so much more exhilarating. What is so exciting about making lemonade out of lemons anyway? Why not just suck on the damn lemon until the glands in the back of your throat convulse from the acidity and you remember you’re alive?

Okay, focus … back to traveling. In my every day life, people annoy me. Now, throw me into a tin can with hundreds of them and it’s what I like to think hell would be like. My own personal hell. I’m not one of those people who like to make small talk with the stranger sitting on my right who, after the flight, I will never see or speak to again.

For that matter I don’t like talking to people in or around an airport, period.

I become a loner. An observer. And as much as the conversations around me make me cringe, a listener. There is always the spoiled university student whose daddy pays for everything: “Guess what my dad gave me for Christmas… he paid my credit card! I still want something for under the tree though, so I said I want a New Years dress, iPod speakers…the world on a silver platter….” Then there is the group of it’s-five-o’clock-somewhere university students out on a Spring Break-esque trip “Oh. My. God. When we get there, LET’S DO SHOTS!” What I notice about both of these is 1. The uncomfortably high volume in which they speak so that everyone around them can have the “privilege” of hearing and 2. They make me hate people even more.

Then there is the tall, broad-shouldered, I-spend-three-hours-a-day-in-the-gym-and-I’m-in-love-with-myself white/Latino. As I walk by, I notice, I mean he does look good, but right as we pass each other, he makes eye contact and gives me a come-hither, you-know-you-want-this smile. My reaction: I roll my eyes. Just in time so he can see.

And there is, of course, always the adorable, sweet old couple who tries to make conversation and you just really feel too damn rude to ignore. I’ll give them a pass because they are old, hoping that one day, someone will do the same for me.

On this last trip I took to Costa Rica, I was particularly not in the mood for conversation after just saying goodbye to my boyfriend … again. I was waiting in line for check in and, as if my signals could not be anymore obvious, a 40-something white American male behind me says “Sad to leave?” “Mhmm,” I reply, without looking at him.

Note for the socially clueless: No eye contact = No desire to have a conversation with you.

“How long were you here,” he prods.

“Not all that long.” I turn my back to him.

“I was here for 3 weeks. I come every few months or so.”

“Mmm.”

“It’s a beautiful country, you really should come and stay longer. I always spend my time in Jaco, maybe a few days in San Jose.”

I think to myself: Jaco is the worst beach to spend 3 weeks at and you couldn’t visit an uglier Costa Rican city than San Jose.

“Was this your first time here,” he continues, clueless.

“No, I lived here for two and a half years.”

Silence. That will shut him up, I thought.

“Oh, why were you here? For work?”

Ugh! Seriously dude. I’m not looking at you. I’m answering with short, first-grade sentences. I turn my back to you after every comment. How are you still talking to me? And as my luck would have it, I had another 30-40 minute wait in line with Mister chatter-box behind me. When it was my turn at the counter, I walked off as fast as possible, not looking back, while at the same time praying that for once in my life I’d have good luck and he wouldn’t sit next to me.

Be careful what you wish for.

God answered my prayer that day; he didn’t sit next to me. Instead I got a 300+ pound, 6+ foot, 40+ something Latino who, due to the size of his shoulders, forced me to fold myself uncomfortably into the nook in between my seat and the window, hoping for a fast flight.

It felt like an eternity.

There are of course the moments that make me smile a little too, although they always seem to be overwhelmed by the bad about flying. This trip, for example, the good came in knowing I didn’t have to convince an immigration official that my green card was, in fact, real and that I didn’t pay for a fake one. I didn’t have to scan my fingerprints and stare into the tiny camera as they captured my face. I didn’t have to answer questions about why I was out of the country for so long, or when I planned to leave again. In fact, this time, immigration hit on me. Twice. Once entering into Costa Rica and again arriving back in America.

And now my new, shiny American passport has its first stamps, stamps that I would willingly put myself through hell again to obtain.