Living

6 Not-So-Serious Resolutions—And One Heartfelt One—For 2021

Anne T. Donahue on the resolutions we all need and deserve this new year.

An illustration of a woman lying on a purple couch with her legs in the air

(Illustration: Leeandra Cianci)

So, what did we learn this year? That even the most logical person will inexplicably hoard toilet paper? Or that screaming into the night is a viable weekend pastime?

If 2020 has taught us anything, it’s that assuming that 2021 will provide a blank enough slate to hold our hopes and dreams is a bit naive, at best. The world has changed, and so have new year’s resolutions. Reader, these are the resolutions we all need and deserve.

Memorize the most questionable personal life entries of every single Wikipedia profile you read.

This will impress co-workers during Zoom presentations in which you’re forced to make small talk with 42 people you’ve never met and maybe even a tiny dog. (Especially the dog: Did you know Kathleen Turner claimed Nicolas Cage stole her chihuahua in the ’80s? She recanted, but the legacy lives on.)

Work out at least once every day—by doing the Clock Rug Stretch from The Big Comfy Couch.

You laugh, but you try reaching the nine o’clock position on your first go.

Tackle every Great British Baking Show challenge in the same time given to contestants.

Then drop the end results on your neighbours’ doorstep to shock, delight or traumatize them. (You’ve just gifted them an eight-pound horse made of marzipan and burnt meringue flavoured with the salt of your tears. How can they complain?)

Forge new relationships by committing to a strict meal plan.

You’d be surprised at how quickly you can meet new people and make friends when you order the exact same pizza six days in a row and the delivery guy eventually writes on the box, “Hey ma’am, are you alright?” (I am not!)

Learn to make your own masks . . .

Based on every mask worn in The Phantom of the Opera. (But avoid making the Phantom’s. His mouth is exposed, and is therefore a cesspool of aerosol-borne droplets.)

Reintroduce yourself to the art of dressing up by cosplaying your latest TV binge show characters.

Frankly, if you don’t think we’ve all been watching a series about how Logan Roy evolved into a god of warmth and knitwear, you’ve clearly misunderstood Succession.

End that dead-end relationship once and for all.

More specifically: your relationship with hustle culture, #RiseandGrind mentality, anything that equates self-worth to busyness. Being kind to yourself in the face of global and personal chaos doesn’t mean setting a bunch of unrealistic expectations just because the clock strikes 12 on the new year. You’re allowed to be a person—and we’re all just trying our best.

FILED UNDER: