Happy New Year interwebs! Four days in, and I’m juuuust about ready to declare this the Year of Em, which is something that happens roughly ’bout the same time every year when I decide that I’m taking the next 12 months by the balls. Because New Year, y’all. Resolutions and all that.
I don’t make those big lofty resolutions. The ‘I Will Get My Beach Body By Doing Five Pilates Classes A Week And Stop Drinking While Cutting Out Refined Sugars And Carbs And Maybe I Should Just Go Completely Vegan And I Am Definitely Volunteering For A Charity This Year Something With Animals’ type stuff really just gets in the way of all my binge drinking and pasta eating, and who am I even kidding anyway? I’d last about 4.56 minutes in a world without cheese.
I do, however, like to make a few little resolutions. Baby ones. Resolutties, because it sounds like puppies, if you will (and we all know how much I love puppies). A few simple changes that will make me harder, better, faster, stronger. (Thanks for the lyrics, Kayne, my man.)
Here’s the 2015 list. Tres achievable, yes?
Stop saving my special candles for a ‘special occasion’.
Oh yes, I’m talking to you, Jo Malone Lime Basil and Mandarine, you pompous little asshole. Sitting up there, judging your Ikea counterparts. They’re a dime a dozen. They’re not even saved for company, for heavens sake. They’re whipped out and lit up on a rainy Tuesday while I’m sitting here in my track pants, watching re-runs of Friends. But not you. You sit in your little glass case, just waiting for the Queen (Beyonce or Elizabeth) to stop by for your glorious, scented debut.
But the game’s changing in 2015. You’d better watch your wick, Dusk Bondi Limited Edition in the special glass. Because life’s too short for crappy candles, and to be completely honest, I’m getting fecking sick of dusting y’all. This year, I will seize the scent.
Time to cease the Insta fly by.
Oh don’t you very well judge me. All of you. Including you.
‘Sif we haven’t all been guilty of the cheeky ‘Imma just gonna check to make sure that your life isn’t better than mine before I go back to blocking your ass’ fly by on Insta. Or Facebook. It starts innocently enough. A cheeky peep while you’re brushing your teeth. Another glance while you’re waiting in line at the supermarket. A quick click while the barista is making your coffee. And before you know it, bam. You’re dropping by daily, have a strong opinion on their new haircut and are compulsively comparing your Bali holiday to their jaunt in Fiji. (It rained for three days straight while you had clear skies – that means you win…right??)
There’s a reason those folk aren’t in your life anymore. Time to stop being Stalky McGawkerson. We get 1440 minutes each and every day, and once you take out the 700 or so I spend sleeping, and then the other 400 I spend stalking people I actually like on Facebook, I really don’t have time to spend on those fools. I mean, just think of all the Greys Anatomy re-runs I could watch with that extra time, amiright??
Oh, and something about being a grown up and moving on and not worrying about people in your past. Insert inspirational quote about not always looking in the rear view mirror.
Venture out of my movie comfort zone.
While we’re talking about re-runs, here’s a fun fact about me. I like re-watching movies. Alot.
I can’t help it. I turn on the TV, fully intending to settle back and slip into the adventures of some new friends, somehow, I end up hanging out a the same old place with some familiar faces. D’you know that I still haven’t seen Django Unchained?
Here’s the thing. I get so little time to actually enjoy a movie. Properly. Usually it’s background noise as I tap away on the laptop, because busy. So when I actually have a spare evening to watch a movie, you know, actually pay attention, oh holy smokes is it a glorious thing. I don’t want to waste this amazingness on a B-Grade-Should-Have-Gone-Straight-To-DVD let down of a flick. I want a guarantee that I’m going to love the shit out of it.
But enough. There’s only so many times you can watch Richard Gere climb up the fire escape before wondering if there is more to the silver screen than a predictable Hollywood ending…
Start brewing my green tea correctly.
Oh I feel a great big almighty smack down coming from tea connoisseurs. But it’s time. Time to confess. I, Emma Mulquiney, don’t always brew my green tea the right way. *ducks while she waits for the inevitable back lash*
Guise, I’m not being over dramatical here. I’m a fully fledged member of the Tea Wanker Society. I have all the nifty little gadgets and filters and tins, and I can truthfully report that nay a bag hath passed my lips in a very long time. I’m loose leaf all the way, bah-be.
But sometimes…ok, many times…ok, alright most of the time, I just heap a spoonful into the small plunger thingo and whack it straight into the boiling water making a mockery of all the tea gadgets. Yep. That’s probs why it’s bitter, eh? 2015 will be the year that tea drinking is an experience…rather than just something that can be achieved in the 93.7 seconds I have inbetween my meetings.
Happiness. Sprinkle that shit around evvrrywhere.
Oh lordy, friends. I don’t mean to go all sentimental on you, but gosh this life thing is pretty damn amaze balls. There’s fairy floss and ducklings who use water slides (seriously, YouTube that shit and I dare you not to die with delight) and pinot noir and friends to drink said pinot noir with and puppies and shoe sales and peony roses and Chanel perfume and the beach and Mexican food – and oh, that taste of brand new white bread, you know, when it’s super soft and still a little bit warm because it’s that fresh? AND GUYS, WE’RE GETTING NETFLICKS THIS YEAR.
I spent far, far, far too much time dwelling in the negative in 2014. Focusing on the one tiny thing that was wrong…heck obsessing over the one tiny minute detail of crapdom, that I was ignoring all of the super wonderful things. And there’s heaps of them. I mean, JUST LOOK AT THOSE FECKING DUCKLINGS.
Happy New Year, friends x