Open Book: The Future Is Now
Resolutions Should Be Made Every Day Of The Year
By Anya Nitczynski
For the GPHN
I’m somebody who makes New Year’s resolutions year ’round. (Some would call my commitment to drinking more water in March or making three new friends in August simply “goal setting.” I say calling these New Year’s resolutions makes it more fun.)
I find the actual day of Jan. 1 surprisingly intimidating. It is the only day where it is encouraged in our culture for one to make an immediate so-called “life change.” Perhaps this is why I’ve chosen to extend the day of resolve beyond its usual 24-hour period.
As a member of the class of 2025, this particular new year is probably the furthest I’ve ever thought into the future. I am thoroughly alarmed at the prospect that it is already here regardless of the fact that I have had roughly 17 years to prepare. I am tempted to build an igloo in my backyard, cling to my life as it is, and reject any and all indication that change might be occurring outside the safety of my ice palace force field (igloo).
It is easy to get lost in the Fear Of Four Months From Now (when I’ll turn 18 and receive college application decisions) or linger in the Terror For 10 Months From Now (when I’ll be away from home and responsible for buying my own toothpaste). But it is also easy to find solace in my hopes for the year.
I am not completely allergic to change. I hope my favorite artists release new music. I hope each individual in my class ends up where they are supposed to be. I hope for peace. I hope for smooth transitions of power. I hope for less political polarization and scapegoating on both sides of the political aisle.
There are things I hope stay the same: my humor, the support of my friends and family, the power of art and the way snow absorbs sound. I hope that my little brother continues to do speech and debate and that our democracy is protected. I hope I continue to make New Year’s resolutions in every season.
The beauty of this approach is that my ability to process change and make internal shifts accordingly is not limited to the first day on the calendar. Every day, I can leave my igloo and seek to not only accept change but celebrate it. I can even seek to contribute to it.
It is up to each of us to continue making resolutions to benefit ourselves, others, and the world all 365 days of the year. A change is just a new beginning, after all.
Anya Nitczynski is a senior at Denver School of the Arts. Her column appears regularly in these pages.