So, here we go.
Every January, like clockwork, we cling to the annual tradition of New Year’s resolutions—a ritual as silly as it is hopeful.
We declare grand goals, often while still nibbling on those leftover sugar cookies, vowing to transform our lives in 12 months.
I’ll admit that I’ve made my share of lofty resolutions in years past. One year, I resolved to stop procrastinating, only to spend three weeks researching the “best” to-do list apps without actually downloading any. Another year, I pledged to hit the gym five days a week but somehow ended up with a Hulu marathon workout plan instead.
I have learned that resolutions are a curious mix of optimism and self-sabotage, yet we keep coming back to them.
To investigate this phenomenon further, I did what I often do most years for this column – I hit the streets of Arlington to uncover what we are resolving for 2025.
The results, as usual, did not disappoint.
First, I met Terrence Winston, a jovial 52-year-old retired math teacher waiting for his daughter outside of First Watch, the breakfast eatery at The Village at Sports Center, just south of I-20.
Winston’s resolution for 2025?
“I’m going to teach my dog to fetch my slippers,” he said.
I don’t think he was kidding.
“He’s already got the fetching part down,” he continued. “Now we’re working on distinguishing the slippers from my wife’s gardening gloves.”
He paused.
“It’s a work in progress,” he muttered.
Then there’s Brittany Cassidy, a UTA junior from Terrell and a self-proclaimed TikTok enthusiast. She was waiting for a table with her parents in town for a quick visit.
Cassidy’s 2025 resolution is both bold and strangely specific:
“I’m going to go viral for something meaningful, like knitting sweaters for shelter cats,” she said. “It’s time to give back.”
And get likes.
Cassidy’s confidence is inspiring, though I’m curious how many cats will be willing to model her creations.
Over at the Parks Mall, I bump into Sharon Johns, a 40-something mom of three resting on a bench surrounded by shopping bags. She had a particularly poignant resolution that seemed a bit more real-world than my previous resolutioners.
“I’m going to stop signing up for PTA committees I don’t actually have time for,” she said with a sigh. “Those super moms can make you feel so guilty for not being able to put in the kind of time they put in.- but, then, none of those super moms work. Their child is their work. I can’t compete with that; at this point, I’ve got to do me. Me, I can’t do all that stuff.”
“So,” she continued, “my resolution is not to do it and certainly not feel bad about it.”
On the funnier side, there’s Carl Osteen, a 28-year-old bartender with a flair for the dramatic. “My resolution,” he declared, “is to only give out the ‘good ice’ to customers who tip well.”
He was kidding. I think.
And who could forget 10-year-old Mia Hernandez, who shared her 2025 goal while enjoying a hot chocolate in the food court with her sister and mom.
“I want to have a huge sleepover party with all my friends,” she said, her mom kind of rolling her eyes. “I want us to stay up all night watching movies and stuff.”
I’m not sure that was a resolution as much as a plea to Mom, who seems to have said no to this request before.
Finally, I spoke with Janice Townsel, a sprightly 85-year-old who summed it all up perfectly: I wanted to know the resolutions of someone who has been around the block more than a few times. Do they even have resolutions anymore?
“My resolution is to stop making resolutions,” she said. “At my age, I’ve realized the only thing worth committing to is enjoying every single day. If I decide to eat a second slice of pie during Christmas, I’ll eat a second piece of pie.”
Reflecting on these conversations, it’s clear that New Year’s resolutions aren’t about perfection but about embracing the quirks and aspirations that make us human. Whether we’re trying to lose weight (the most popular, usually), knitting for cats, or plotting ice-cube revenge, these goals reveal our eternal hope for growth, however small or strange it might be.
And some are quite strange.
So, what’s my resolution for 2025?
I’ve decided to stop pretending I’ll stick to resolutions and instead focus on celebrating the ridiculousness of trying. I like that.
The thing is if we can’t laugh at ourselves, who will?
Kenneth Perkins has been a contributing writer for Arlington Today for over a decade. He is a freelance writer, editor and photographer.
