Nenge Mboko?! It's Me, Lionel Joseph!

I missed the Thursday deadline for a new post yesterday, yes, but the good news is that self-imposed deadlines are, by definition, entirely unenforceable. In the absence of risk of impact to other people, the decision to do something and the penalty involved for failing are all constructed within the same subjective mind, where the internal definitions of "law" and "justice" and "good" and "right" (speaking entirely of the self vs. the self here) are all only ever going to be arbitrary and relative to nothing. Essentially what I'm saying is there's no consequence self-imposed that can't be rationalized away, and with no possibility of a follow-on consequence that isn't itself then just another rationalized choice. Basically all our brains are hermit kingdoms, like North Korea, and our conscience homunculi are little Kim Jong Uns, inventing threats and responses as they go along.

This is also the reason I don't make a lot of New Years Resolutions. I mean, I could decide to stop eating whole sticks of butter, but I'd only be doing it because I wanted to. Seriously, I could stop any time, easy. But there's nothing about Jan. 1 that changes any of the dynamics of the choice. It's all about the motivation, which we arbitrarily assign to a date. If I can gin up the gumption to make a change on Jan. 1, that same drive and will to betterment should exist Feb. 9 or July 26 or whatever. I guess what I'm saying is this is my way of announcing that my no-whole-stick-of-butter regimen is scheduled to begin July 26, 2015.

Write it down in pencil though. Something might come up. Butter emergencies are notoriously difficult to predict.

With the idea of the wishy-washy vagaries of circumstances vs. personal resolve to change in mind, instead of posting what my resolutions are/would be this year, I'll review the ones I made last year and see how they held up.

1) Get in better shape. Action: actually quit my gym. Accidentally fell asleep on my couch with much more shocking frequency since turning 40. Started eating whole sticks of butter. Result: FAIL. Consequence: Fatness

2) Learn Spanish. Action: Continued living in Southern California, which I've decided is the same as the immersion method. Result: EL FAIL. Seriously, I couldn't even be arsed to look up the Spanish for "failure." Consequence: Still a pinche guero, whatever that means.

3) Watch "Game of Thrones." Action: Watched "Game of Thrones." Result: WIN. Consequence: Triumphalist self-talk. Also longing to watch more "Game of Thrones," leading to inter-seasonal sadness. Only a few months to go now...

4) Do not turn 40. Action: turned 40. Result: God, who even has the energy?

I may or may not do something like this for New Years next year, but looking over the previous list, I'm hesitant to commit too hard even to that. The only thing I know for sure is that some people my age are expecting babies this year and I know I want to avoid that at all costs. With the vasectomy I had more than a decade ago, I feel like this is something that is reasonably achievable, with the right amount of discipline, will-power and continuation of the severed state of my vas deferentia.

It's also easier because that's not just something I'm doing for myself. It's a gift I give all of you--the whole wide world--every time I fail to procreate again. If I had a kid/kids the age my kids are now when I'm in my mid-to-late fifties, there's no telling what kind of social or physical harm the world might be subjected to. Instead, sleep safely. You are welcome.

Merry New Year.