At the buzzer

I'm going to squeeze in a couple of quick resolutions before this year skids away like a garbage truck on an icy cul-de-sac. I've already made a few public resolutions (learn to swim, lower my sugar intake, curb my enthusiasm, etc.) that basically pay lip service to that hackneyed idea of self improvement. But that's not what resolutions are about. They're about damming the floodgates; a new year's resolution that works Slams On The Brakes more than it Gently Accelerates to a better you.

What I really want to accomplish this year:

• Stop (that is, cease) fucking 20 year olds, if only for the dearth of post-coital conversation.
• Abandon the idea of becoming a modern (pronounced in that fey, British way) renaissance man. Pick a lane and drive in it.
• Make the effort to let people know that my air of callous indifference is the product of laziness and not malevolence.
• Stop scowling. It does not make me look (that) sexy.
• Stop complaining and start com-play-ning! (I don't know what this means.)
• Seriously, for the last time: lose the parentheses.

And what I quietly resolve every year: turn down some road not yet taken, with eyes wide open, and make it though the bumps and slapping of splintering branches with my wits and spirit intact.

Maybe that last one is a bit of the old gas pedal. Sue me.