I have to admit to you, somewhat reluctantly, that I have a rebellious streak in me. I am slow to admit it because everyone in my family that watched me insist on never matching my socks for 25 years will say “duh,” and others of you will know that when I see a sign that says keep of the grass, I ardently and deliberatively…
….comply and keep walking without trampling the grass even a little. I am a “good kid,” but the kind of good kid who likes to break very specific sorts of things. One of the effects of the rebellious streak, however, is that whatever behavior or thing I swear of entirely on Monday, is probably exactly what I will order for lunch on Tuesday. I just don’t love rigid rules.
This is one of the reasons that New Year’s Resolutions have not only been a waste, but I also dread the conversations that asks us to consider them. They stress me out. But it turns out that it is not just because I have a particular kind of personality. I actually keep having the kinds of conversations with others about resolutions that not only make me concerned for the little tiny bit of damage we do to ourselves when we promise to be better, at just about anything…. But it makes me concerned because there is something in those empty promises that seem to be driving most of what is driving us all crazy in the moral and political climate of our day. (There. I said it. Now I have to beg you to keep reading because I used both moral and political in the same sentence.. hang in there… I promise I will eventually talk about sex. )