New Year's Rabbit Reconstitutions

All new year's resolutions fail. It's a scientific fact. Show me someone who is actually keeping a a resolution afloat mid-February, and I will produce the Loch Ness Monster. In fact, show me someone who makes a resolution and keeps it through the end of the year and I'll throw in Big Foot, Elvis, and indisputable evidence that Joan Rivers is precisely 114 years old and has never had a bit of plastic surgery in her life.

Failure simply cannot be an option in 2011. That is why this year I am abandoning new year's resolutions. Rather than resolve to do something new, I am simply going to commit to those things I am already doing with at least some success. I am leaving behind the ideal and grabbing hold of the REAL.

Ideal: I resolve to be more charitable with my time, money, and emotions.
The Real: I will continue to abstain from punching anyone in the face, no matter how much he or she deserves it.

Ideal: I will exercise at a brisk pace for 30 minutes at least three times a week.
The Real: I will continue to walk my dog so he can pee, and even run a little when it is butt-cold outside.

Ideal: I will eat more whole grains, steamed veggies, and drink 8 glasses of water a day.
The Real: I will continue to eat chocolate on a daily basis, preferably more of the good stuff.

Ideal: I will lose the same 12 pounds I have been complaining about for a decade.
The Real: I will not gain weight. At least not enough to require buying bigger pants.

Ideal: I will get 8 hours of sleep every night, preceded by meditation, journaling, and teeth flossing.
The Real: I will continue to fall asleep on the couch watching trash TV if I feel like it, sleep in on the weekends, and floss at least when a popcorn kernel gets stuck up in there.

Ideal: I will speak in a polite, professional, and ladylike manner at all times.
The Real: I will continue to swear when no other words will do, but restrain myself in front of children and the elderly. Well, in front of children anyway.

This year, 2011, is the Year of the Rabbit in the Chinese zodiac calendar. And rabbits are cautious. They look before leaping. They don't jump into diets and investments and relationships without using their little bunny brains. I feel confident that my list of New Years' Reconstitutions is doable. And that's all I'm really going for in 2011. I'm not saying we ought to settle for mediocrity or stop setting goals or refuse to challenge ourselves. But sometimes we need some small successes just to keep us going. And that's what 2011 is going to be about for me: small successes. It would be great to get out of bed an hour earlier every morning to do sit-ups and stretching and read some classic literature before work--that's the ideal. But you gotta know where you're at. For sometimes just getting out of bed and going to work is not only The Real, but a Real Success, too.

P.S. If you'd like to join me in a year of Real Successes, the official Year of the Rabbit doesn't start until February 3 this year, so you still have a whole month to modify your list and replace some of those idealistic resolutions with realistic reconsitutions.

Christmas: The Season of Santa and Strippers

'Tis the season to complain about the season.

Today is December 23 and I was out on the road today. The traffic was horrendous, roads were slippery, drivers seemed cranky, and I felt stressed. There are so many things to complain about during the days and weeks before Christmas, and everyone does complain, and, amazingly, we still find it fresh and new to read about how ironic it is that during this season of giving and goodwill and peace on earth, we are really at our worst.

Remember Christmas in 1983 when Coleco couldn't make enough ugly-faced Cabbage Patch Kid dolls and stupid parents loved their children so much that they would drive 95 mph all night long across multiple state lines to join a mob outside a toy store for a chance to riot in the aisles come 5:00am and bodyslam the nearest store employee/parent/grandmother-with-a-cane who dared get in the way of creating the anticipated and priceless moment under the tree when the hideous yet coveted toy would be presented to a half-interested Veruca Salt?

Ah, those were the days.

Not much has changed, but bedlam in the local Best Buy on Black Friday is not my topic today. My topic today is the Cabaret.

The Cabaret is a 24-hour strip club located along a major route just outside of Boston. And I drove by it today around 5:30pm. And the parking lot was full. Not just full—I mean FULL. There wasn't a single empty parking spot available.

What is the meaning of this, you might ask? Well, I asked myself the same thing as I passed by. My first thought was probably the same as yours: how gross, or how sad, or how pathetic must those men be.

But then I considered how many people were jamming up the roads and the on-ramps and off-ramps to the malls and how they represented the unabashed consumerism of the season. And how many people are hitting the stores at the very last minute to buy gifts, proving that the thought behind the gift counts much less than whether it's 4G or HD compatible.

Let me offer a new perspective on those contributing to the college funds of the dancers at the Cabaret. These guys are relaxing because they have either (1) finished all their shopping early, proving that they are thoughtful and deliberate gift-givers who do not procrastinate, or (2) have shunned the materialism of the holiday, proving that something much deeper and substantial than Christmas consumerism moves them (so to speak).

Perhaps we can all take a lesson from these guys. Maybe it's time to turn away from the stripmall and turn toward the stripclub to find the reason for the season. After all, there's a lot of giving going on in the Cabaret tonight, and isn't that what this time of year is all about?

Don't Let Holiday Relacide Happen to You

[Note: I read somewhere that if you have a blog and you are single, separated, divorced, widowed, or part of the GLBT community, it's practically a law or something that you write a post on being alone during the holidays. In accordance with the aforementioned expectation, I give you the requisite it-sucks-being-alone-during-the-holidays-but-let's-pretend-it-doesn't post. Enjoy.]

Single and alone on Thanksgiving? Look on the bright side. Relative-on-relative homocide rates spike 293 percent on this holiday compared to other days of the year. Okay, I can't back that up with any actual data, but I do know I have personally had to channel the strength of Zeus in order not to shove the big turkey fork into the carotid artery of a particularly annoying relative over more than one holiday spread.

So, besides eliminating the inevitable desire to commit relacide, there are lots of other advantages to spending the holidays alone. And this isn't only for single people; you married folks with annoying parents and/or in-laws should feel free to use one of your sick days to call in and miss today's "festivities." Here's just a short list of things to be thankful for if you must (or choose to) spend today alone:

* If you're a chick, you don't have to listen to the endless droning of announcers and crowds as the relentless sounds of football waft through the air with the smell of burnt rolls.

* If you're a dude, you can have the football games on all day long without fighting for the remote, negotiating for time away from the Macy's Day Parade, leaning around well-meaning bearers of Doritos and pork rinds, or missing important game commentary because of the endless droning of Aunt May about your third cousin's newborn who has colic.

* You don't have to answer the question, "When are you going to get married?" or any of the other [frequently more annoying and distasteful] derivatives (e.g., "You DO like men/women, don't you?" or "Do you think it might be time to lower your standards a bit?" or "You do realize, I hope, that at your age, you are more likely to be killed in a terrorist attack/struck by lightning/attacked by a rabid hyena/commit relacide than get married?") .

* You can drink as much as you want without the fear of letting it slip that Cousin Pete is the ONLY person who doesn't think his toupee looks obviously like a toupee and that when he's not around you semi-affectionately refer to him as Squirrel Pelt Pete.

* You can eat as much as you want without apology, without wishing you'd worn looser pants, without the judging eyes of your grandmother who always said it's a good thing you're so smart because your sister/cousin/niece is "the pretty one." In fact, you can unbutton your pants and slide your hand inside the waistband Al Bundy-style and sit that way all day long if you want. Hell, take your pants off. It's your house.

* If you cook a turkey, you get to pull BOTH sides of the wishbone, guaranteeing wish fulfillment (bonus: you don't have to tell anyone what you wished for).

I guess none of these ideas is particularly unique, and perhaps all are inadequate in staving off the achiness that comes with spending a family-ish holiday alone-ish. But when it comes right down to it, Thanksgiving should be more about personal gratitude than a jockeying for position around the sweet potatoes and big screen TV. That's why this Thanksgiving, I'll be spending a few moments writing down a list of things for which I really ought to remember to be more thankful. Right at the top of that list: the fact that I have family members I love enough to miss today, and friends who love me enough to help me miss them a little less.