Trying Resolution

A goal not written down is just an idea.

The Times Square Ball is synched to the NIST-F1 atomic clock in Boulder, Colorado, the United States’ master time teller. The clock measures time using the vibrations of cesium atoms, which oscillate at a precise frequency. By counting these oscillations, the clock can keep track of time so accurately that it won’t lose a second for at least the next 100 million years. Thankfully (or maybe not), I don’t think we’ll be celebrating New Year’s then.

I have always been obsessed with time. When I am late to something — a dinner reservation, movie, date — my chest turns in on itself and I find it hard to speak. As soon as my plane leaves the gate, I start my phone timer so I know exactly how long I’ve been there and how much longer I’ve got left. Even as a child, when I’d wake up at night, I’d brave the monsters of the dark and tiptoe downstairs to check the microwave clock — I couldn’t fall back asleep without knowing. In short, if I could hook up my brain to the NIST-F1, I would.

New Year’s is a holiday about the passage of time, so it’s only natural that it fits within my fixation. That being said, unlike my preoccupation, I don’t find it to be a day that cares about precision. Rather, it’s the only day so simultaneously concentrated on the past, future, and living in the moment. It is a day to reflect and project, to have fun and let loose while asking yourself, “Who do I want to be?”

For this reason, the New Year feels very serious to me. Of course, you can have fun and set goals any day, and you ought to. But alongside my love for time generally, I am someone who cares a lot about how — and when — things begin. My daily tasks always start on the :00, :15, :30, or :45 (or, at the very least, multiples of five and ten). When I tell myself it’s time to form a habit, it is always on a Monday. New Year’s Day is the :00 of :00s, the Monday of all Mondays, if that makes sense. It is the perfect day to begin.

This is a lot of pressure for one day, which is why I try to craft goals in accordance with the “SMART” advice of motivational speakers: Specific, Measurable, Achievable, Relevant, and Time-bound. But for me, there’s another essential component those speakers leave out. Growing up, my grandpa often said, “A goal not written down is just an idea.” I buy this advice. For as long as I can remember, I have written down everything I’ve ever wanted to happen to me. I have elementary school notebooks filled with dreams of being a famous director, password-protected middle school diary entries devoted to my unrequited love of the week, and a flurry of half-baked thoughts I can’t even begin to describe in my notes app. Some people call it manifesting, I call it a family trade.

In keeping with my grandpa’s advice, every year on December 31st, I sit down with my journal to write a semi-detailed recap of each month, my parting thoughts for the year, and a theme and goals for the year ahead. 2024 was the year of “YOLO.” Yes, actually. Truth is, I was restless about the future. College graduation was looming, I still hadn’t found a job, and I was terrified of losing the community I had worked so hard to build. Despite all of this, I wanted to ensure that I still found a way to enjoy life amidst the uncertainty. Hence, YOLO.

Last year, I wrote down 12 measurable goals in my journal that I thought encompassed the spirit of YOLO. Out of the 12, I completed 8. I think that is pretty successful as far as New Year’s Resolutions go. But even bigger than these actionable goals, I told myself I would say yes to more, even when I didn’t feel like it. I called that my “major” goal — the goal that took me to a Charli XCX concert in the middle of a field on a work day, the casino with my middle-aged boss where I learned to play blackjack, Casa Bonita on a single-day trip to Colorado, and the final Oscar Mayer Wienermobile driver interview (which has proven to be the best fun fact in the world). 2024 was an incredibly successful year, filled with stories I’ll likely tell forever. It was exactly what I had hoped.

My theme for 2025 is “Devotion.” While I embraced spontaneity in 2024, I found myself yearning for more consistent endeavors. Less sprints, more marathons. My goals for this year, though a bit scattered, reflect either big projects I want to commit to or smaller tasks I’ve been meaning to tackle for a long time but haven’t yet (see: kite). I also have a lot of unmeasurable goals in the back of my mind, which are also focused on devotion to myself and others. For example, I want to commit to seeing my friends more often, eat less ultra processed food, listen to more albums, stretch often, and improve my vertical jump (it’s really dire).

New Year’s Resolutions for 2025:

1. Read at least 25 books

2. Take a 3-month break from short-form content

3. Throw three themed parties

4. Fly a kite

5. Take a skill-based class for at least 3 months

6. Watch Girls

7. Biweekly blogs on Substack

8. See a ballet

9. Submit a piece of writing to a publication

10. Go to a New York Philharmonic performance

11. Attempt a one month spending freeze (no purchases outside necessities)

12. Stop biting nails

13. Find a place to volunteer consistently

14. Visit 10 major NYC museums

15. Complete 5 full body push ups in a row (at the moment, I can’t even do one)

I also have two major goals, which I think represent the ultimate devotion to myself. The first is to run (or walk, crawl, etc.) the NYC marathon if I get accepted through the lottery or a charity. This past autumn, I watched the marathon for the first time, even cheering the last runner through the finish line. I have never enjoyed running — however, I savor community, and watching the race throughout the day made me cry on several occasions about just how many strangers showed up for one another. Through my tears, I remember saying, “I have to do this someday.” I’m holding myself to that. A lot is hinging on getting accepted, which is highly competitive, so I’m not going to get my hopes up too much. In the case that it doesn’t happen, I’ll just put it on the list for next year!

My second major goal is completing a rough draft of the memoir I’ve been thinking about for years. While I have ideas floating around and bits and pieces written that could, hypothetically, fit into it, I’ve never maintained a sustained effort to write it. But I know it’s something I want to do one day, and with the help of someone who has been encouraging me to write it for the past month, I think 2025 could be the year of action there.

Do I think the New Year brings about change on its own? No. However, I really do think I become a better person every year. Maybe that’s naive of me, but there’s something about the last number ticking up that does something to my brain, and evidently many others. And now that I’ve written down these goals and published them, there’s an extra layer of accountability (and pressure) to return with a bunch of checked boxes next New Year’s.

But if that doesn’t happen — if I can’t even fulfill my mission of flying a kite — I’ll be okay. More than time, or goals, or smashing faces at the stroke of midnight, New Year’s reminds me to be grateful: not just for the chance to set goals, but for the very ability to try. The opportunity to see a new year — to move forward in time at all — is not guaranteed. I don’t take that time for granted. Maybe that’s why I watch the clock so closely!