As a general rule, I see in the New Year surrounded by my immediate family plus my auntie, uncle and cousins, having spent the evening indulging in ridiculous pursuits and quite possibly wearing fancy dress. This New Year was no different, except for the fact that I added The Boyfriend into the equation. Inviting him along was brave to the point of insanity, and as I watched him sitting at the dinner table sporting a zebra-print cowboy hat and valiantly attempting a Wild West accent for his part in our Western-themed murder mystery, I realised two things:
1) My family must appear utterly mental to outsiders.
2) The Boyfriend definitely deserves a whole shower of gold stars for not running away as fast as he could.
Mixing people together whom I usually see separately causes me some degree of agitation, so with the success of this new combination of Boyfriend + Extended Family to worry over, it was not until the following day that I let my thoughts turn to that tiresome convention of making New Year's Resolutions.
Now, nobody's more of a fan of a fresh start than I. New beginnings mean the possibility of creating a perfect track record in whatever it is that I am attempting, and being a failed perfectionnist, that appeals. The problem is in the 'failed' part of 'failed perfectionnist': if I am unable to maintain perfection, I abandon the attempt altogether, finding blotted near-perfection far more painful than not trying. Thus if I am endeavouring to spend the entire evening working, and I find myself distracted by wasting time on the internet, I tell myself I might as well give up for the day and try again tomorrow, when I can have another fresh start. Moderation, balance and compromise are not congruous with an all-or-nothing personality.
Therefore when I break all my New Year's Resolutions, which I always do, I then want to wait until the next opportunity for starting over presents itself, and the right time inevitably never comes. This irritating facet of my character combines particularly catastrophically with an extreme weakness of will, and results in me never getting anything done. Resolutions are, for this reason, fairly pointless.
But, here we are again at the start of the year, and of course the old rush of optimism returns to me. This, I say to myself, could be the year where I change drastically. Perhaps I'll suddenly find myself full of motivation, and able to deal with failures as small set-backs as opposed to inconquerable, project-destroying obstacles. Hmm. Actually, I'm unable to fool myself any more.
Nevertheless, I present the usual list, containing the same resolutions I've made for years and have never achieved.
1. I will be more organised.
Yep, that old gem. Both predicatable and highly improbable. The Queen of Disorganisation, I am fairly sure, is not likely to change any time soon, and I can vow to use my wall planner and academic diary as much as I like - it's not going to happen.
2. I will stop procrastinating.
Another laughable goal. I dream of the day when I complete essays well before they're due in, and am able to concentrate for hours at a time. As I dream of this, my time drains away and I realise my essay is going to be a huge rush again. In fact, I just remembered that I was going to spend this afternoon reading and am now blogging. Best scratch this resolution off the list.
3. I will keep my room tidy.
I'm surveying it right now. Mission failed.
4. I will eat more healthily and get more exercise.
What, with the menu in Hall at college containing chips as an option every day? And with the selection of chocolate being positioned right by the till? And with everywhere I need to get to being less than five minute's walk away? Yeah.
5. I will stop biting my nails and the surrounding skin.
I'm currently just about managing this one. When the stress of work returns at the start of Lent Term, my fingers will undoubtedly unconsciously find their way into my mouth, and that'll be the end of that. In fact, my new supervisor for Paper 4 (English Literature and its contexts, 1830-Present) just emailed me, and I can feel my teeth itching to tear at skin and keratin already.
Welcome to 2011: the year where Lemonie will be exactly the same as she always has been. Happy New Year!
