Resolutions

2017, Year in Preview

2016 was quite the year – it seemed everything was shifting and that the best bet was always on the most undesirable outcome (at least for some). These past few months I’ve wanted to write about Trump, far right revivals, Castro, Austria, South Korea, the ongoing farce of Brexit, but the idea of adding to the noise without adding anything new felt a bit pointless, especially with actual Masters coursework I was supposed to be getting on with.

2016 was the year of everyone finally seeing the cracks in the walls, and the mould all over the ceiling. These were things that were already bubbling away, but each of us had selective blindness to some of it. I feared Brexit, but my sinking feeling about Trump I dismissed as excessive anxiety, reasoned out of by the sheer confidence of others’ predictions.

We’re now two weeks in to 2017 and I’ve already managed to fall into a freezing pond and set myself on fire for the second time in my life. And like a bad metaphor for the media’s understanding of the threat of Trump it took me a while to realise I was on fire because I was so into the show I was watching (who says millennials are easily distracted?).

2017, at least on a personal level, seems set to beat 2016.

Putting aside the increasing sense of doom, I don’t want to write 2017 off in the same hysterical way a lot of others are, declaring everyone will die and calling for some sort of Obama dictatorship. Yes, things are going to get worse but if you look at 2016 you can also find some good things that point to the way forwards. Sudan is an example of where protest has adapted to circumstances – instead of going out on the streets, people stay at home, showing dissatisfaction without technically implicating themselves in any anti-government activity. On a smaller level just looking through my social media shows me the way that people can pull together to help those in need in the intervening time between now and a future fix for all our messed up political priorities. You can host healing parties and socials where those from marginalised communities can meet, you can offer vital services at a discount, you can even just be making witty, insightful commentary on the news of the day.

In 2016 I discovered I was wrong about a lot of things, right about others, and most significantly I need to be more confident. For the past two years I’ve written some vague post around the subject of ‘New Years Resolutions’, regardless of if I actually had any. 2015 was trying to push out of my comfort zone and starting this blog, 2016 was trying some more and practising my Arabic, and 2017 is going to being trying harder, not only for my personal life but of those around me too. Maybe this will come about in a post-Masters political job, maybe I’ll do something on the side, but the solidarity which I feel is an important part of my leftist politics needs to be more overt than it has been in the past.

2017 is going to be tough. It’s the year of right-wing power, and more specifically the rise of a right-wing that has no time or love for people like me. It’s a year where basic things are going to be presented as shameful or threatening, whether that’s birth control in the US, standing up for immigration in the UK, being a refugee across the whole of the globe (if your news has only been dominated by the European “crises”, look at the regional issues stemming out of Myanmar alone), and countless other identities, political stances, or just plain old personal decisions.

2017 is a year where those of us on the left are going to have to reject that shame, on both a personal and political level. And true, it’s not going to seem like there’s much progress but it’s the same with fixing a house; you have to just start somewhere and keep going until it’s either patched up or collapses.

 

Things I’m Going to Do Differently in 2016

At the beginning of 2015 I wrote a little bit about what I was hoping to do in the new year. It wasn’t grandiose – if anything the piece was a tad dejected. I expected a level of failure before I even tried.

My plan was to go boldly into something that I loved, and also treat myself as someone I loved. My path has been a little mixed as I’ve certainly not come to any financial security but at the same time I am becoming more and more confident in my writing. It feels a lot like I am the mythical ship Argonaut in that famous thought experience. Slowly I too replace parts of myself, editing my humour, or how I approach work, or the way I laugh or how my hair is carved until I am not sure what is left of my original self yet I am certain I am still me, just a little better each time. 

So I have figured that this upcoming year I can build on this by returning to actual cliché goal set-up, except without any set way of measuring progress (I do still want to feel like a rebel occasionally).

  1. Seek out and accept interesting opportunities more, regardless of whether they are professional, personal, or just general fun.
  2. Practice and improve my Arabic.
  3. Actually ask for help when I need it, and graciously accept charity as well.

I think that these things, whilst not being super measurable soothe my desire to actually work towards something without feeling trapped by it. Years ago I used to set up 10 to 40 different mini-plans and they would inevitably crumble. There were times when I felt that goals were counter-productive; too often in my desire to make a yearly list I wrote aims I would later change my mind about pursuing, but would try to power on anyway just so I would get that sweet cross-out. It turns out that using this tactic just makes you miserable.

Anyway I’m in Berlin at the moment so I already feel that I’m on the right track before the year even officially begins. Currently I’m toying with the idea of finally dying my hair for the first time ever (I’m thinking a white/silver blonde because I’ve always wanted to be more like Storm). I’m trying out the boldness and so far it works.

Who knows what happens next.

Yearning and Failing in 2015

Originally I said ‘kiss a stranger at midnight’ and ‘don’t have an orgy’, and we managed to only mess up the first part, so overall it was a reasonably successful New Years Eve. I was pretending to be comfortable in a short red dress that clung to my fat, and was thinking about all the ways I could be better.

I hate this about New Years. You spend each day leading up to it berating yourself and then, afterwards, you once again make grandiose plans you will not achieve. It didn’t help that this year I need to reorient my career trajectory lest I “waste” my degree –  something that is rather hard to do when you have no real idea of what would make you feel truly great and pays bills.

When I was younger I had a lot of plans for life that I was completely confident I would achieve (knowing it would be with hard work on my part). Now I’m an adult I end up thinking about health and roofs and the ability to get outside the house at least once a week.

So I get stuck on 1) be fitter, 2) have money to do fun things, 3) do something incredibly wonderful with my life. These are are not helpful goals in any way. These are goals I want to achieve merely to inspire fantastic amounts of jealousy because on some level I gage my success on how much other people go ‘ooooo’.

Which brings me to writing essays (because journalism in my lazed mind requires too much research), and making podcasts (about what I do not know) which I have toyed with for a very long while. Yet New Years resolutions are not truly about the small things I can do to help myself, but are centred about the inevitable success I think I will find from them. When I say essays and podcasts what I really mean are adoring fans and money and talks and prizes.

Yes, I will write essays, I say, and people will fix quotes on black and white portraits of me and share them on social media to show how wise they are. And then I don’t write because I feel I have nothing to really say, and I don’t write because I write in a terrible rolling style which needs actual practice to improve. You tend to reach a point where you want to be the focus of a painful event just so you can create something that plunges the depths of human experience. That’s what essays are – a powerful way to write humanity. I can’t claim that. My life has been far too good that even the bad things sound like the whining of Veruca Salt.

I want to be legitimate and fully-formed from the first moment. The fear of work, of proving that expectations of others are inflated, is so deep in me. Like most people with impossible desires, I decide instead to remember a single moment of genius from my high school days and hold it up as the sole example of potential – a great proof of possibility. New Years becomes worrying about how any move I make might transform my future historical record of serious, intellectual, literary work into something less than perfect. It’s what I do, I yearn for greatness. I want to make something that will last longer in your mind than the time it takes to read.

I could pretend I am having a great epiphany but I’m not. The difference between 2014 and 2015 is not really there. I’m still me. I’ll still think I can do better than I can. I’ll try a little more though. That should count for something.