Resolutions I Can Live With

Since January 1 is national make a “list of things I’m not going to do this year” day, I figured I’d make January 2nd the “list of things I’m actually probably going to do this year, and if I don’t, I won’t be too disappointed in myself” day. Without further adieu, here’s my list, make your own!  <– but don’t feel pressure to do this, because like, I’m not trying to give you a resolution that you’ll break. It’s just a light suggestion that you can easily ignore and not feel guilty about! Yay, you’re welcome.

1. Make spending $8.62 a month worth it by utilizing my Netflix account more often than I did in 2013
2. Order things on Amazon all year round, don’t try and make the Prime membership payment worth it just in December. Order that tax free retail with free shipping like it’s going out of style!* (Which it is, because soon the government will close in on this lost revenue stream…obviously.)
3. Continue to compulsively check your bank accounts. This is actually a really good habit. Making sure there are no fraudulent charges – thank you Target! – and keeping bills up to date, those are quality practices. Go me! So like, don’t stop being obsessive about this, k thanks.
4. Actively participate in at least one, not necessarily scheduled, Google Hangout or Skype sesh. I say not necessarily scheduled, because we all know I panic and bail when things are scheduled. And I don’t want me to feel the pressure of having to schedule one, necessarily, but maybe. But only if I’m feeling up to it, OH DEAR I’M PANICKING TAKE A DEEP BREATH, ok all good here. So yeah, there are people on opposite coasts, and farther up north, and way down south who maybe deserve to be able to reprimand your behavior face to face since they put up with your constant whining and crises and all.
5. Talk yourself out of a lot of good ideas, but nothing too life changing (I hope). Like, out of lunches, and Skype dates with friends, and networking events that you payed for, and going out on Friday nights, and buying plane tickets, and trips to Greece. No seriously, you had a lot of good ideas in 2013, but you were right, some of them might have been scary…though I’m not sure why…so it’s a really good thing you talked yourself out of them! Be sure to talk your way, and yourself, out of a few of these in 2014!
6. Finish a few of the books that I’ve half started. And half start a few more!
7. Don’t go to the gym. [check] But do actually get physical exercise on the farm. As per usual. But ride more for sure, please, maybe? Maybe even get a fitbit since you’re jealous of the ones you bought Mom and Eldest Brother. Ok go ahead, check off #2 as you order that fitbit!
8.  Play with dogs.
9. Nap. With dogs.
10. Eat food. Most likely food that someone else prepared, but maybe a few times this year cook something. No wait stop, preparing food is good enough. You can prepare food and we’ll count that as cooking this year.
11. Get even better at surfing…internet surfing. You know, share valuable things that enlighten and teach people things, like this.
12. Procrastinate semi-important things, by doing completely unimportant things, like writing blog posts…whatever makes you happy, ammiright?!
13. Avoid cracks in the sidewalks. I mean really, isn’t this the most important #13 on any list ever?
14. Obey the five second rule…but only loosely, allowing ten to fifteen seconds, as needed.
15. Take more pictures. This one sounds like a real resolution, it might actually be. But if I don’t take more pictures, I won’t be too upset with myself, so it’s ok, and is therefore meant for this list.
16. Continue letting my hair grow. It’s super tempting to chop off my been-growing-for-a-year-since-I-went-pixie hair again, but I want it to be long eventually. So, I should like, not cut it…too much. Probably. Even though it’s super tempting since my spirit animal chopped hers off too. Grrrr HOLD FAST ANNA. YOU CAN DO THIS.
17. Write a lot of lists. Every day. Task lists. Lists of reasons why I like lists. Lists on lists on lists. And share them here, because I know for a fact that EVERYONE loves lists. Obviously.

Please forgive the constant and inexcusable switching between 1st, 3rd, 2nd, 4th, and 5th person. Writing a list to, for, and at myself was complicated, ok?

*Also, let’s review: “like it’s going out of style” doesn’t always make sense, because if something is going out of style, why would you stockpile it? Like, I will have a whole bunch of things that are not going to be in style soon! Yay me for being outdated! (Which don’t get me wrong, normally I’m outdated, but that doesn’t excuse this phrase for not making complete sense, however in this post’s use it makes perfect sense thank you very much.)

How To: Lie Like You Mean It (Christmas Edition)

If you’re one of those parents who celebrates the Christmas holiday, it’s possible that you might also celebrate with some version of Santa Claus. And if you are one of those parents, sometimes, your kids might have some of those “questions” about how this all works. Now, if you have a kid like I was, they might try their own tactics to determine whether or not good ole’ Saint Nick is really real. Some of your kids might be willing to buy into the “magic” explanation, and that’s all fine and dandy…but what about when you have children who recognize logic and logistics? Should they be penalized by having the joy of something whimsical snatched away from them as a child because they are too quick for their own good? NO. You should step up your game and recognize that your kid is probably going to be smarter than you soon, and you should take the opportunity to lie to your kid just a little bit longer while they still trust your every word.

So let’s get down to business. Here you have an explanation worthy of your young whipper snapper. And if it isn’t, give up now, you have some long years of child rearing ahead. Best to just throw in the towel on this child, and hope the next one in line is less of a little prick.

“Mom, but hooooow does he make it to all of the houses in just one night? There are 7 billion people in the world, just trying to fit in (I’m sorry, but apparently your child is a Bieber fan…fix that too please)…how can he do that?!”

“Now Janie, let me explain something that might come as a shock to you, but probably not, because you’re a smart girl. There is an entire network of Santas. Not just one main guy, I mean there is one main guy, but we’ll get to that a little later. Let me just start by explaining how this works. First of all, you have a Santa for every region. I mean, you’ve seen him at the mall before, right? Well Santa has to be able to collect ALL of the wishes from ALL of the boys and girls everywhere, just in the month of December. And how can he possibly do that without a little help?

So, Santa employs a lot of regional helpers. Not just elves, but other Santas. They aren’t really ‘imitation Santas’ as you’ve called them, they are real, they just aren’t the head honcho. Which means they don’t get health benefits because the work is only seasonal, and let’s be honest, we can’t expect Santa to be able to afford a year round salary and benefits on the cookie payment he receives from you children. So anyhow, these regional Santas each have control over the gifts for the children in their jurisdiction. They go to the malls and go to the stores and go to the parties, and they gather data on each child. And when they’ve collected all of that information, they take it to the regional warehouse, where they have a large temporary labor pool of elves. Now, a lot of these elves are here on work visas from the north pole, and they are mostly day laborers, which means they don’t have full time employment, so we call them temp elves. And normally, we’d be upset that these regional Santas aren’t employing local citizens, but then again we kind of like it when the price of the gifts remains free, since you children aren’t willing to empty your piggy banks, just your cookie jars; so we can’t really afford the Amazon drones that could otherwise deliver your ‘made by locals’ gifts.

So anyhow, you might be wondering how these regional Santas know whether or not you’ve been naughty or nice all year, since they are only paid a seasonal salary. Are you ready for this? I’m going to tell you. And you’re probably going to get a little nervous, but here’s the thing: they ask me. Well, not all of them ask me, but each Santa relies on a status report from each child’s parents. So maybe next year, you’ll consider providing Santa with additional reference letters, or double check all year to make sure I’m giving you positive marks on your evals.

Now, this might be the most disappointing news you’ve heard all year. But I’m going to tell you, because you need to understand the logistics. I think you’re starting to realize how Santa implements his wish list collecting and gift building, but now it’s time for distribution. Since each Santa has a region he can reach within the span of one night, you might be wondering where each of these Santas keeps their fleet of flying reindeer. Honey, it’s not logistically feasible for each Santa to have their own fleet. So instead, each Santa is required to provide his own vehicle for transportation that night. Some of them may ride bikes, use horse drawn carriages, employ carrier pigeons, or even drive a foreign car. And sometimes Santa looks a lot like the UPS man when he makes a delivery and he knocks right on our door.

So when you’re wondering why you didn’t get that pony this year, keep in mind that Santa is working on a cookie salary, his helpers are practically volunteers, and he simply can’t fit a pony into his compact car. Additionally, I think your eval left ‘room for improvement.’

Now, the most important thing to understand is that our head honcho Santa, is kind of more of a figurehead. But he is completely necessary in maintaining order. Every year, the Council of Santas gets together on New Year’s Eve and votes in the new head Santa. (Kind of like the Pope, or the President) Then, he starts off the new year by moving up to the north pole, immediately out of contact with his constituents and the general public, because we don’t want him getting too viciously questioned by children who are unhappy with the previous year’s gifts. We call those children ungrateful, and we also recognize the importance of keeping Santa safe from any potential threats and attacks. So he lives in his castle high on the hill, but don’t be too jealous, because he is pretty lonely, and pretty cold. So, his main duties are to make a few public appearances with the one fleet of reindeer, make sure that his army of regional Santas keeps getting toys built and delivered. Sometimes he makes decrees that are meant to ‘help’ out with the working conditions of the elves…but in reality they just create animosity between Santas and helpers. But we’ll get to that another day. Any other questions?”

And with that I say, Merry Christmas, and you’re welcome.

What’s The Point?

The point is, when I’m walking down the street with my boyfriend and you yell, “ditch that asshole and come with me,” or something of that nature, I’m pretty sure I don’t feel excited.

I feel nervous.

I feel threatened.

I feel angry.

I feel upset.

I feel awkward. You made me feel awkward with the new boy I was dating. I’M ALREADY SO AWKWARD, DON’T MAKE IT WORSE.

You made me feel like everything has to be so serious. Like I’m always teaching. Always on the lookout. Always explaining. Explaining to these boys that this is “why I hate being a woman.” Explaining to my boyfriend why it sucks. You make me feel like I wished I wasn’t a girl.

Because I feel scared.

Because I feel threatened.

Because your life is easier. Because no one yells at you while you’re walking with your girlfriend and tells you to leave her and jump in a random passing car. You never then have to explain what was just said. When you were already feeling uncomfortable. To have to decide just how much you’re going to pretend like it didn’t affect you so that you don’t appear too sensitive.

You make me feel too sensitive. Like I shouldn’t care. But I do. I don’t think you’re funny. I think you’re stupid, immature, ignorant, and mean. And threatening. And if you were my son, I’d be disappointed. If you were my brother, I would have kicked you out of my car, told you to go up and apologize. If you were my friend….no, we wouldn’t be friends. Because I don’t want to be friends with people like you. With people who think it’s ok to yell at a girl who got all dressed up to go out with her boyfriend on his birthday. To make her feel stupid, silly, and afraid. I don’t want to be friends with people like you.

The thing is, you’re probably not a bad person. You’re probably a decent human being. So stop treating me like a dog.

I Was Blogging Before it was Cool

I know what you’re thinking, “Wait, blogging is cool? Since when?” Of course it’s cool…or not cool, obviously, because it’s too mainstream. But anyhow, the point is, I was totally doing it before like, it went all viral on the internet and stuff. Now you’re thinking, “Wait, that doesn’t make any sense, you invented blogging? But I thought you just started this, like a year ago?” Ok, don’t worry, I promise to explain, and also to stop talking like a valley girl (like, maybe).

So when I was just a child…as in from the point at which I could write, I was blogging. Back then, we called it keeping a diary, and it required a pen and paper. It usually involved describing your inner thoughts in a place that no one was supposed to read. It was where I could be open and honest and sort through things. Where I could figure out which boy I really liked more, and document the subtle cruelties of having two older brothers.
Good heavens, she’s right! She was totally a blogger (these italicized things are totally your thoughts by the way)

Even back then I was terrible at keeping a steady log. I would sporadically write. Sometimes it was every day, and sometimes I was diligent at making sure I didn’t write anything for weeks…or months…until I desperately needed it. Until somehow I got to the very brink of going insane, before I remembered I’d been practicing the perfect therapy. That’s what blogging is for me. It’s therapy.
Wait, so does that make me her therapist? Am I getting paid to read this? Should I be getting paid to read this? You’d totally have to be paying me to still be reading this…

And just like my diaries, I write in a train of thought meant for only me to understand. It is written specifically for me to cope, or document, or explain. It’s written for me to put my innermost feelings on paper, in a secret place where no one will ever read them.
Wait, is she being serious? Like, I know I don’t understand half of what she says because, ADD! ADD! ADD! But, she does know, I’m reading this right? Wait, am I getting paid for this?

Except of course that everyone someone will read them. Just like my diary. Except I’m pretty sure no one will ever actually read my diaries. I am pretty sure they won’t care just how many different ways thirteen year old me could modify my initials, only to realize the ones I have are really the only ones I plan on actually keeping. But I always assumed that they would. I can tell you this, in confidence, not because I remember having the feeling like someone was sneaking in and stealing my secrets, but because I wrote an entire diary where each entry began “Dear Reader”…as if someone would find it and give two sh*ts. Someone other than me of course, who would desperately like to find that diary but currently can’t, because I’m not sure if it’s part of another one, or an actual separate book. Who knows. I’ve never completed an entire diary in my life. Legitimately. It’s on my list of things to do before I die (most people call that a bucket list…), and then I crossed it off my list, because I thought I had completed one. But then just now, when looking for my “Dear Reader” diary, I realized the book I thought I finished was still half empty, and I drew a lot of stick figures showing the spacial orientation of party guests. See, I’m so good at blogging.
Wait, was that supposed to make any sense? Was I supposed to get that? I think I missed it. But I’m pretty sure, it means you have an internal struggle over who you want to be, and you need to follow your heart…or something like that? Wait, are you still sitting on my couch? Are we done here?

Yes. We’re done here.

Author’s note: No one received compensation for reading this post, though many of you probably should. Thanks anyways peeps! xoxo Anna

Editor’s note: It’s late and I can’t sleep, so this is what you get. Deal with it. Also, the editor would like to note, that in this case, she is the same person as the author, which is not true in all cases. Perhaps in the future, I’ll let my actual editors make notes. But maybe not.