Drive.
I will drive. I will get caught up in a traffic jam. I will accidentally hit someone (hopefully lightly, in a Taiwanese way). I will be ticketed for speeding. I will make wrong turns and get lost. I will keep driving.
Connect.
I will get upset, rather than pretend that I can easily forgive. I will cry rather than pretend that I am calm and unmoved. I will laugh out loud without fearing being inappropriate. I will say hi rather than keep a polite distance. I will say I like you, rather than say nothing, to avoid being rejected.
Feel.
When I eat, I will taste. When I see, I will watch. When I hear, I will listen. When I speak, I will talk. When I touch, I will feel. When I breathe, I will inhale. And exhale.
Stop (Measuring).
Position. Salary. Family. Kids. Awards. Deals. Wins. Losses. Clothes. Cars. Houses. Lovers. Friends. Savings. Expenses. Them. Him. Her. You. Me.
Explore.
Do I have stories to tell? Do I really hate being employed? Do I secretly want to perform in public? Do I want to have much more money? Do I want to have a big family? What am I afraid of? Or proud of? Who do I secretly hate? Or love?
Admit.
I listen to hair metal. I dream about winning a lottery and dating three young girls and living in a five-star hotel. I follow celebrity gossip. I really enjoy spending boring hours in a cushy job. I stare at women’s bosoms. I fantasize about kinky sex. I grow my facial hair partially because I am ashamed that I am bald. I am still angry toward my family/friends/myself. I love being alone and I hate being alone. When I am in a good mood I am a victor and when I am in a bad mood I am a victim; either way, I am still an asshole. I admit that this list is already longer than any other sections in my New Year’s resolution, yet I have barely started to warm up.
Write.
Every day.