Personally, I think America ought to adopt a new Independence Day tradition: instead of shooting off fireworks and holding barbeques, we should all make July 4th Resolutions instead.
Think about it: by this time, the majority of your New Year’s Resolutions have probably gone out the window. July is the perfect time to assess your progress, fine tune your goals for the rest of the year and re-launch your attempts to lose weight/read more books/lose weight while reading more books (I’m still trying to figure out how to maximize my time on the elliptical).
Plus, a new July 4th tradition of this sort would reduce the need for barbeques. I seriously cannot handle any more barbeques. I’ve just finished losing all the weight I gained over Memorial Day—and now we’re back to hot dogs and hamburgers and cheesecakes all over again. (To be fair, no one forced me to polish off two servings of cheesecake last night but seeing as the cheesecake was my contribution to my parent’s barbeque, I had to test it. And I’ll let you know when I’m come up with an equally plausible excuse for my baked-brie-with-apricot-jam consumption…)
Anyway, like I was saying: this is the perfect time of year to dust off your New Year’s Resolutions and since I’ve always believed in leading by example, I’m gonna dive right in.
Kat’s July 4th Resolutions, 2011
Resolution #1: Stop making resolutions.
Resolution #2: See above.
Bet you didn’t see that coming!
But seriously… enough is enough already. Do you really want to read about every decision I make? Especially when I have a tendency to change my mind—to no shortage of fanfare and naval gazing— every five minutes? I can go back and forth over London vs. Philadelphia until the cows come home, and I can obsess over writing or going on for my PhD until I’m blue in the face (and trust me, I have) but it doesn’t make for terribly interesting blogging, and it doesn’t make for terribly interesting living either.
So I’m done.
No more resolutions.
No more whining.
Because life never goes according to plan anyway, so there’s no use in getting my knickers in a twit every time I think I have things figured out.
And with that, I’m going to go rock out to the most patriotic song I can muster (“Firework” but not the Katy Perry version, the Glee version— obviously) and attempt to channel my inner Carrie Bradshaw.
And probably help myself to another slice of cheesecake.