I don't know when it shifted, somewhere in the mid-teens. Well, that's a lie. It was 2016, to be precise about it.

Prior to that, the new year was usually a moment of hope. It marked new promise, new possibilities. Things to look forward to. Kisses, singing, fireworks, and of course resolutions made with evidence-resistant certainty that this time will be different. But whatever the specific experience, the common shared baseline was that we were looking toward something.

Then 2016 happened. That was when we stopped saying hello to the future and started telling the past to go fuck itself.

We were so weary at the end of that year, remember? November took the life straight out of half the country. The worst person in the history of American electoral politics, a stunningly stupid and corrupt and vicious man whose biggest aspiration in life was to be a mob boss, became our president. And he was elected precisely because he was stupid and corrupt and vicious. That was the selling point. And it worked. Millions cheered.

What followed was year after year of good, thoughtful people saying the same thing in unison with keyboards and mouths every December 31st: "Good riddance."

Even knowing what happened that year, it seems adorable that we would gotten to that level of despair before 2020, arguably the worst year in American history since the 1860s. It was the last of four solid years spent watching the news to find out what the hell he was going to break today, the first year of a plague that would conservatively kill a million people in this country alone, the year that good and reasonable people had to fight to an unreasonable extent to keep the dumb useless bastard from being reelected. The year that ended six days before the fine, upstanding Christian folks who supported him tried to stage a violent coup and end American democracy so they could claim the power that was and is their actual god.

Yeah. I'm tired too.

The last three or so years have been the hardest of my life. With all of that as background static, I've faced a bunch of personal trials, a pile of problems that have had no simple solution, if they've had any solution at all. Chronic and sometimes screaming tinnitus that no one knows how to treat. Two completely-out-of-left-field strokes that I am reliably informed should have at least handicapped me and probably killed me. The psychological and marital fallout of those strokes. A good job that turned into a toxic shitshow, followed by another, better place that (through no malice or wrongdoing, just stupid luck) got me stuck in a corner working on the worst project I have ever dealt with in my career. Hell, even exercise became an endless hamster wheel of stress and frustration. I tried to manage all of that while wondering if the plague would claim anyone I love, wondering how bad my dad's cognitive decline is getting, wondering if I did my children a disservice by bringing them into this world.

It's moments like these that I lean on the serenity prayer. If you prefer a less Christian formulation, and I certainly don't blame you if you do, then let's go to Eckhart Tolle: "When you complain, you make yourself into a victim. When you speak out, you are in your power. So change the situation by taking action or by speaking out if necessary or possible; leave the situation or accept it. All else is madness."

Change what you can. If you can't change it, shake the dust off your feet. If you can't leave, the only thing left is acceptance.

So I've started doing that. The things that I can change are getting my best effort. The things that I can't change are getting yanked off the pile without warning, explanation or apology, if they can be. Everything else gets all the acceptance I can muster.

You have no idea how many times a week I've coached myself on this in the last three years. Well, probably you do. You're probably like most reasonable people, raising a middle finger in lieu of a glass of champagne at the passing of the year. You're probably coaching yourself too.

That virus and them goddamn rednecks just about beat the optimism straight out of us, ain't they? But I'm determined not to let them beat me. Not to kill my ability to look up.

We're going back to the moon, y'all. It's been bumpy as hell going back there, and we're way behind schedule, but we're going back to the moon, and that's just the first step towards Mars and beyond. Ain't no fuckin redneck can even conceive of such a thing, much less do it. Hell, half of them aren't sure that the world is round. They don't know how to dream, much less how to build what they dream.

I hold tightly to that, and to this: Optimism is a form of rebellion. It is a way to fight back. Despair is a sin because it's exactly what your enemies want you to do. So. Fuck 'em. We're going back to the moon, and things are going to get better. We're going to fight hard to make sure they do.

So here's my resolution: I'm probably going to get weary, and I'm probably going to get frustrated and pissed off, and I'm probably going to have days when I check out. But I'm not going to despair. I'm going to stay optimistic. I'm tired of hating the past. Better to learn from it, to let that pain reveal what I'm clinging to, and to let my hands open so they can grasp the possibility that lies before me.

Here's to 2023. Happy New Year.

Let us resolve.

Let us resolve not to make bullshit resolutions we know we will not keep.

Let us resolve to know in our bones that change is hard and painful, that it must sneak up on us.

Let us resolve to accept that each of us is, in some way, kind of fucked.

Let us resolve to remember that not just of ourselves, but of others.

Let us resolve to sleep more.

Let us resolve to honor the people and things that we love in their time.

Let us resolve to find a way to spend at least part of our day doing more than just reacting.

Let us resolve to suck at it, but suck at it a bit less every time we try.

Let us resolve to put some skin in the game, any game.

Let us resolve not to parrot television douchebags or buy their "books".

Let us resolve not to treat our neighbors with suspicion.

Let us resolve not to turn our schools into prisons.

Let us resolve to fuck each other, to the extent that we are allowed.

Let us resolve to be optimistic about the new Star Wars movies.

Let us resolve to remember that God is in our kitchens and bedrooms more than in most churches.

Let us resolve to treat that last resolution metaphorically, if we cannot do so literally.

Let us resolve to be frivolous.

Let us resolve to go outside.

Let us resolve to wallow in filth, just for a little bit, if it's fun filth.

Let us resolve to leave shock and outrage to the falsely pious and the ninnies.

Let us resolve to act like goddamn grownups.

Let us resolve to talk about the stuff we're afraid to talk about.

Let us resolve to make something. Anything. Even just a letter to someone.

Let us resolve to embrace silliness as a means of solving problems.

Let us resolve to allow others to scream at us with impunity.

Let us resolve to remember that we are not alone.

Let us resolve to remember that they can't eat us.

Let us resolve to really celebrate that next poop. If it's a good one.

Let us resolve to admit that nipples are kind of weird, even if they've got nothing on pubes.

Let us resolve not to let being wounded destroy our trust.

Let us resolve not to be a bunch of god damned joiners.

Let us resolve not to trust people with answers.

Let us resolve to trust people with questions.

Let us resolve to trust (clean) data.

Let us resolve to pet something.

Let us resolve to let go.

Let us resolve to figure out what we care about, and then really care about that.

Let us resolve not to fuck each other up.

Let us resolve to weep.

Let us resolve that we will no longer refer to any drink that does not contain gin and vermouth and only gin and vermouth as a "martini".

Let us resolve to remember that cheap things are expensive, especially when they're people.

Let us resolve to never forget that this shit is supposed to be hard.

Let us resolve to say no.

Let us resolve to care fuck all about the expectations of others.

Let us resolve to care very much about their needs.

Let us resolve to climb.

Let us resolve to hold.

Let us resolve to sing. When we are weeping, let us resolve to sing.

Let us resolve to dare to hope.

Let us resolve to say yes.

Let us resolve to agree that Daniel Craig is the best James Bond, yes, including Connery, go fuck yourself.

Let us resolve to go fuck ourselves.

Let us resolve to get better socks and shoes.

Let us resolve to stand up straight.

Let us resolve to hunger.

Let us resolve to chase.

Let us resolve to bask.

Let us resolve to fill ourselves.

Let us resolve to punch 2013 in the taint, but not in a mean way.

Let us resolve to tear it the hell up.

Let us resolve.