"Surviving (and Thriving) in the New Year: My Quirky Resolutions for a Better Life"

Here I am again, fresh off another wild marathon of holiday feasting—pies, puddings, roasted goodies, and a flurry of bubbly to cap it all off. My waistband’s about as happy as a cat in a bathtub, and my liver is staging a protest worthy of a labor union. Yet, despite all that, the first light of a new year begins to glimmer—ushering in that time-honored phenomenon of “New Year’s Resolutions.”

Of course, we know that good intentions aren’t sold in drugstores (alas!), and while there are still plenty of kind souls who hold out hope for a brighter future, this world is never short of opportunists. You know the type: people who wouldn’t recognize morality or ethics if they stumbled over them, or those who fancy themselves censors yet couldn’t locate the rule of law on a map of Absurdistan. Let’s not forget the folks who assume that “being loud = being right,” but deep down, they’re just cowardly and self-absorbed.

Still, in the midst of this circus, I’m determined to cling to my own wishes for the upcoming year. I might not keep all of them—let’s be honest, slip-ups happen—but at least I’m writing them down, with a dash of wit and sarcasm. And yes, dear reader, I daresay these are miles better than a bunch of unspoken (and often half-baked) aspirations floating around in other people’s heads.

Just so you know, I don’t use Facebook—I’m more into X (the former Twitter I like to call the “digital henhouse”) and LinkedIn (where everyone’s a manager of themselves… or an “evangelical prophet of inscrutable truths,” and yes, I’m part of that crowd, ironically enough). That’s where I’ll be dropping little pearls of wisdom or pungent jokes, depending on how much caffeine I’ve ingested.

In the spirit of Mark Twain (and I’m paraphrasing with reckless abandon here): “Whenever you find yourself on the side of the majority, it is time to pause and reflect.”

So, with that in mind, let’s jump into my splendid list of New Year’s resolutions, hoping that at least one survives past Valentine’s Day...

1. PROFESSIONAL LIFE

• Make More Money. At 60, retirement still feels as mythical as a unicorn prancing through an enchanted forest. If I have to keep working, I might as well turn a decent profit. Bills don’t pay themselves, and dog/cat kibble costs a small fortune. If there’s a bit left over for a yoga-tango class or a weekend getaway in the mountains—hooray.

• Keep Having Fun, Even If My Hair is “Blond Flesh” (i.e., nearly invisible). Because who wants to spend every workday in a monotony that’s duller than a cement documentary? I intend to keep cracking jokes—whether clever or borderline slapstick—and taking advantage of my life experience to do so with flair.

• Always Share a Healthy Dose of Irony and Sarcasm. Humor is one of the few free medicines we have. If I can’t toss off at least one witty remark a day (on LinkedIn or in the break room), I’d rather bail out. Besides, it’s the only way to stay sane in a mind-numbing meeting.

• Make the Planet (not just the Workplace) a Tiny Bit Less Awful. I won’t claim to save the world, but I can do my part not to worsen it. Maybe separate my recyclables, avoid littering (even though I don’t smoke, you never know), or maybe help out with some volunteer program. Small acts can go a long way—like Mark Twain said, “The secret of getting ahead is getting started.”

• Update My Professional Profile with a Course that Actually Interests Me. Could be a masterclass in the shamanic rituals of Borneo or a webinar called “How to Use X (ex-Twitter) Without Going Insane.” Either way, I like feeling alive through learning. And who knows, I might return to the office armed with exotic anecdotes to baffle my colleagues.

2. FAMILY & PERSONAL LIFE

• Support (and Endure) My Extended Family. That includes parents, siblings, nieces, nephews, dogs, cats, and maybe the occasional eccentric uncle who only appears at Easter. It’s a jigsaw puzzle of odd characters, but with patience (and humor) I can sometimes enjoy seeing how all the pieces fit.

• Care for My 90-Year-Old Mother Without Grumbling Over Her Tall Tales. At that age, conversations can veer into outer space. So what? If she wants to talk about UFOs parking in the yard, I’ll let her. Maybe she’s right and we’re the fools for doubting it. The important thing is that she feels heard.

• Meet Up with Friends at Least Once a Year (“Semel in Anno”). Technology may have reduced us to X or WhatsApp messages, but a face-to-face coffee is a whole different ballgame. A once-a-year get-together involving laughter and constructive gossip is practically medicinal. Pizza optional, but highly recommended.

• Don’t Forget Christmas Decorations (and Not Just Halloween). I’m a huge fan of pumpkins, witches, and fake cobwebs, but come mid-December, my house looks tragically un-festive. This year, I swear to deck the halls with twinkling lights and gaudy ornaments—unless my cats decide to wage war on them first.

• Get My Fingers Moving on Guitar and Keyboard. I’ve got callouses from keyboard taps (the computer kind), but it’s time I let those callouses meet actual guitar strings and synthesizer keys. I’m no Santana or Jean-Michel Jarre, but I can probably manage a half-decent tune—and maybe the cats will join in on a squeaky note in D-sharp.

• Say “STOP” to Work to Learn Languages and Do What I Love. Life can’t be all deadlines, invoices, and “urgent” emails. I want to spend a few hours a week tackling a new language (Portuguese? Japanese? Klingon?), plus cultivate hobbies that make me feel alive. I may not need them for survival, but they keep the mind fresh.

• Keep a Paper Journal. Yes, an actual notebook with actual pages. I might fill it with random thoughts, bizarre dreams, quotes from favorite songs, or scathing remarks about whoever swiped my parking spot. Handwriting is oddly therapeutic—coming from someone who spends 12 hours a day on a PC, that’s saying something.

• Go on at Least One “Aimless” Trip a Year. Hop in the car (or on a local train) and wander, with no specific destination. Stop if there’s a scenic view or a quaint inn. It’s amazing how an unplanned excursion can generate stories to laugh about for months.

• Allow Myself a Weekly “Gastronomic Offense.” My health might be fussy about daily indulgences, but once a week, I want to devour a meal loaded with all the bad-but-tasty stuff. Life is too short for constant deprivation.

• Read Books I’d Normally Overlook. Could be a gothic novel, an avant-garde poetry anthology, or a scientific tome about weird mushrooms (the real kind, not malicious software). Opening my mind to something unexpected is the best antidote to stagnation.

• Sleep More, Whine Less. Science says adequate rest is vital. At my age, binging streaming series till 3 AM is a direct route to crabbiness. A well-rested me sees the world with less gloom… or at least fewer scowls.

3. SOCIAL LIFE (X AND LINKEDIN, NOT FACEBOOK)

• Post Irreverent Takes on the Shenanigans of Self-Styled “Experts” and Conspiracy Theorists. X is brimming with unhinged content: from people convinced pigeons are government drones to “security pros” who post their password in plain sight. Calling out their nonsense with a biting sense of humor is practically a public service.

• Offer Sarcasm Liberally to Wannabe Censors and Late-Blooming Moralists. There’s always someone who wants to ban you because you happen to like the color yellow or because your wit is too sharp for their fragile sensibilities. Dear censors, tough luck: freedom of speech (within reason) is still a thing. I plan to keep using it—280 characters at a time, or more, now that X allows “novella-length” posts.

• Use LinkedIn for More Than Just Self-Congratulation (Even as an ‘Evangelical Prophet of Inscrutable Truths’). LinkedIn used to be a résumé showcase—now it’s teeming with gurus, “Thought Leaders,” and yes, folks like me with big titles. I’d rather not turn into a peddler of hot air, though. Expect some interesting articles, a dash of self-praise, but mostly a lighthearted, no-ego approach. Mark Twain might say: “Those who don’t read have no advantage over those who can’t read,” so I’ll be reading—and sharing—stuff worth your time.

4. LIFE AS A SECURITY EXPERT

• Remember That If You Don’t Understand, It’s Partly Your Fault. I keep telling anyone who’ll listen: “Password ‘123456’ is about as sturdy as a paper umbrella in a hurricane. Don’t cry to me when you get hacked.” If you stick your login credentials on a Post-it note for all to see, well, that’s not the hackers’ entire doing.

• I Can’t Take Responsibility for Your Data. I’ll advise, recommend, and bark like a wise old watchdog (or a heavyset cricket gasping for air) that it’s time to patch your system or not open that email from the “Prince of Nowhere.” If you ignore me, don’t come claiming indemnity.

• Repeat the Basics Like a Broken Record. Update. Backup. Strong passwords. Look out for phishing. I know, it’s tedious and borderline nagging, but I’d rather bore you than watch you lose your identity to some scammer. Follow my lead or don’t—it’s your call.

• Experiment with New Tools and Certifications. Yes, I’m no spring chicken, but I still get a thrill testing new intrusion detection systems or digital forensics software. If I don’t keep learning, I might as well be a floppy disk in a world of blazing SSDs.

• Cultivate the “Evangelical” Urge to Educate. I’m no missionary in a savage land, but if I can teach someone the importance of using a decent antivirus—or not clicking on that shady link—then I’m like that little bird trying to douse a forest fire by carrying water in its beak. Small? Perhaps. But if we all give up, who’ll fight the good fight?

EPILOGUE

So there you have it: my carefully curated set of good intentions for the year ahead. No guarantees I’ll stick to each one religiously—gotta leave room for some spontaneous chaos, or life loses its flavor. But writing them down is still a victory over inertia.

Meanwhile, those spineless folks who confuse loudness with logic, and the would-be censors clogging up LinkedIn or X, can keep chanting their favorite tunes. I’ll be here enjoying sarcasm and free speech until they decide to lock me out for “disturbing the peace.” As Mark Twain once said, “Never argue with stupid people, they will drag you down to their level and then beat you with experience.”

So if the truth floats, who are we to sink it? In any case, happy New Year and best of luck with your own resolutions. If they don’t pan out, at least we tried—with a grin on our faces and a slice of irony in our back pocket. And in a world full of grumblers and blowhards, that’s quite an achievement.

Cheers, and pardon me if I’m laughing!