Procure, learn to operate, and frequently use a gaudily-painted sea plane (for profit.)
Find ways to work the word “pendragon” into conversation everyday, preferably in context.
Try the veal.
Begin using misleading monikers and handles in all interwebnet communication, just for the sake of variety.
In order to maintain a consistent integrity in the realm of arriving at work on time, only one member of the household is allowed to consume NyQuil® prior to going to bed.
It’s a long way to the top (if you wanna rock ‘n roll)
Contemplate the simultaneous learning of unicycling and minor levitation.
Wear more gray. Or grey.
Welcome to adulthood, Hertz Rental Car Club Gold cardholder! (You may cut out and carry the card for your convenience.)
Your summer soundtrack will predominantly consist of My Morning Jacket, Kings of Leon, Ray LaMontagne, and D’Angelo. iPod it up.
Stop giving Subway a chance. They don’t deserve it.
The night time is not always the right time. Sometimes it is the left time. Unless you’re dyslexic.
Don’t be surprised if the fountain of youth turns out to be full of Martineli’s Apple Juice. Old Ponce de León loved him some AJ.
Look into this whole China Thing.
Build a two-seater helicopter for aviation-minded lotharios and dub it “the rotator.”
Boycott any publication that relies heavily on punny article titles.
22375 songs, 75.2 days, 126.89 GB is not nearly enough.
1:00pm lunch meetings are hereby banned by order of your growling tummy.
Now that you’re sufficiently pissed at yourself, start really digging your way out of the debthole you made for yourself. Also, trademark the term “debthole.”
Meet the Quaker Oats man.
Code up a site just to display all the goofy photos you take with PhotoBooth. Especially the ones where you look like a wolverine-esque freakshow.
Despite their current comeback attempts, do not give in to the fashion plague that is skinny jeans.
Never allow your wife to go out of town without you again. If need be, recall the lonely solo fetal position sleeping you endured, or how happy you were just to discover that her closet smells like her and therefor becomes a place of solace and refuge in an otherwise cold and empty home.
Build a content management system for this website so you don’t forget it exists.
Find the guy doing all the raindances and tell him to LAY OFF.
Quit corporate America because the paycheck just isn’t worth the drama. Go teach drama. Realize that all jobs lack merit, no matter the scale or locale. Have the epiphany that they pay you because working is an inconvenience. Get a better paying job.
Make an effort to keep a pair of gloves in the glovebox, if only for sentimental reasons.
Record the sound of the shutter on your Polaroid SX-70. Set it as your ringtone, as it makes you smile every time you hear it (and costs slightly less than the $1-per-click price of a actually taking a photo.)
Look into this whole Stumble Upon phenomenon and the ensuing web traffic it sends your way.
Brainstorm activites, speeches, practical jokes, animal costumes, etc. that may be appropriate for your last few days of work “for the man.”
Convince a world-renowned photographer to shoot your wedding. Begging, pleading, bribing, and/or kidnapping are all viable means of accomplishing said goal.
Replay the last 12 months of your life, chuckle at the absurdity and wonderfulness of it all, have a Coke, and go back to work smiling.
Get ready for a change of metaphorical seasons.
As a person of caucasian descent, whose tract is more used to food that is fast, eating Mexican food two nights in a row is a bad idea.
Now that he is slightly old and definitively crazy, convince Mel Gibson to make a 4th installment of the existing Mad Max Trilogy, then use your newfound friendship with the actor/director to be cast as post-post-apocalypse-surviving extra in said film.
When you provide a detailed Christmas list to your friends and family, you often get what you asked for.
Battle occasional bad days by being so happy that your co-workers think Care Bears must have crapped rainbows on your head.
Wear more tweed.
Do not, under any extraneous circumstances or day-to-day minutia, allow the various semi-creative ideas in your head to remain there and thus, inevitably, go bad like so much over-ripe, unpicked fruit. Also, pick up bananas at the store on the way home.
At the behest of a wise and wonderful wizard, lasso a beautiful unicorn and gallop over the heads of a school of helpful dolphins into the sunset. If possible, don’t forget your digital camera (because hey, who’s actually going to believe the dolphins helped you?)
Make things. Don’t stop making things.
Fly home so your family won’t forget what you look like. Or who you are. Or what to leave you in their respective last wills and testaments.
Develop a penchant for the droll.
Implement the daily siesta. Consider telling your boss why you have a hammock beside your desk.
Make this website behave correctly in Internet Explorer. Silently despise anyone who still uses Internet Explorer. Become frustrated at such widespread ignorance. Become a champion for justice. Rally. Protest. Have difficulty finding the time to fix minor coding issues on this website that make it behave correctly in Internet Explorer. Get dizzy.
Choreograph office dances to the entirety of the new Justin Timberlake album. Test your glass desk for max weight distribution load. Rig lights underneath the desk. Disco.
Get a haircut, hippie.
Discover the maximum amount of movies Netflix will send you in any given month of the 3-at-a-time plan. Stock up on popcorn.
Despite your newfound Texan surroundings and the ensuing excitement thereof, consuming Tex-Mex twice in one day is still not a good idea.
If less than three stories, always take the stairs. Your heart and your butt will thank you, and when was the last time the two of them were in agreement about much of anything?
Relentlessly verbally mock parents who keep their children on leashes in public.
Don’t mourn the death of relational second-guessing. Certainty can be a beautiful thing.
Through either research or consultation of black magic, determine exactly what famed popstar Meatloaf wouldn’t do for love. Also, determine exactly what way the Backstreet Boys wanted it that way.
Use some variation of the phrase “beat [someone] round the head with [something]” as much as possible.
Work out your body with weights until such a time as you can pull off a Dar, The Beastmaster costume for Halloween. Prepare for women to swoon and nerdy men who love fantasy and sci-fi to go “Hell yeah, The freakin’ Beastmaster.”
Begin mental prep for world domination.
Next time you’re traveling solo via elevator, remove the overhead light fixture and find out if there’s really a door to the elevator roof, like in all the movies. Explore.
It’s time to kick it up a notch.
Figure out the broad-sweeping implications of the strange mental correlation between dropping your girlfriend off at the airport… and feeling roughly like you’ve been kicked in the chest repeatedly by an angry ninja, debilitating you to the point of wondering when in the month of September you’ll actually catch your breath again.
Begin the habit of taking long walks directly after meals.
Revel in the tension of distance.
Be a truly funky individual.
Despite the uncoolness and lack of indie cred, never regret your love of Maroon 5’s Songs About Jane or the Justin Timberlake Live in London DVD.
Film more video. Life is passing you by uncaptured. Don’t get so caught up in capturing it that you forget to experience it. Edit wisely.
Kill whitey.
Contemplate selling your undependable SUV and buying a scooter. When confronted with the inevitable gayness of the mental picture that is you - riding around downtown on a scooter - repeat the mantra “90 miles to the gallon, 90 miles to the gallon” until any misgivings subside.
Get completely out of debt in the next 7-12 months. You have things to do. 1, 2, 3, go.
Become a multi-millionaire. Buy the Polaroid Corporation. Immediately restart production of the recently discontinued SX-70 time-zero film. Revel in the praises of the tens of like-minded people who are now joyous.
The next time someone says “turn that frown upside down,” hang them from a chainlink fence by the elastic of their recently outstretched underwear and inform them that their view should be all smiles now. Resist smiling at this point, as it would ruin the specific purpose of the entire exercise.
Update your websites. It might be the only reason people like you.
Think about buying the world a Coke (after all, it’s the thought that counts.)
Make the best possible art you can. Be absurdly prolific and productive. Go to bed before 2:00am because you have to go to work in the morning. Discover the alternate dimension where you can reconcile all of these things and still have monetary income.
Realize that using the term “I’ve got spring fever” is merely a passive aggressive, albeit mildly socially acceptable, way of saying “Actually, I just miss the oh-yeah-baby lovin’ lovin’ mmmhm.”
Fist fight a sad clown.
Take a vacation (preferably with a “Don’t Hassle Me, I’m Local” t-shirt on your person.)
Be a wildly successful artist. Hire a type-A, task-driven personal assistant. Pawn off multiple tasks on said PA so that you can focus solely on being a wildly successful artist. Reread Catch-22.
Host a Corey Haim/Corey Feldman movie marathon. Again.
Be the ball. Also, be on the ball. In other words, be on yourself. You want to be on you. Have a ball.
Nickname an acquaintance “Nubbins.”
Mourn the loss of your downstairs neighbors that played Lionel Richie at absurd volumes. Avoid the urge to somehow inform the new tenant via note or yelling that she and her fella are quite loud. At least be glad it doesn’t last very long.
Get a haircut, hippie. It’s touching your ears.
If you keep using a single sheet of toilet paper as a bookmark, everyone who sees you reading in public will know you read that same book in a seated position sans pants.
Sleep.
Play in a Mariachi band.
Get new business cards made. Something that makes people smile when you hand it to them.
Paint something larger than 4×4′ you wuss.
Be a kid again.
Go to the same restaurant one or two days a week for months. Always order the same thing. Then, on that fateful day when you walk in and are greeted by the all-knowing, precognisant smile of food choice familiarity from the employee behind the counter, order something completely different.
Make the leap. Start using a two-button mouse.
Buy a seriously great grizzly bear costume. It will come in handy for something.
Stop thinking about it. It doesn’t need to happen.
Learn to skateboard.
While it is perfectly ok to enjoy the recent inexplicable influx of ridiculously good hair days, don’t let it go to your head. Unruly, high-maintenance white boy afro could strike at any moment (given the right mix of humidity, impending fancy social activities, and demonic intervention.)
Go to summer camp.
Drive an old Land Rover Defender. Eventually.
Buy a classical guitar. Learn all the melodies from Miles Davis’ Flamenco Sketches.
Stop caring about web stats for your various sites. Cold turkey. Now use all that time to do something productive like actually making art. No, seriously, stop it.
Get James Brown’s band to follow you around and make emphatic horn stabs on command. And one… BAAAAARH. Two more… BAAAAARH BAAAAARH.
Throw a block party.
Even though it starts in 3 days, make a last minute decision to try to go to SXSW.
When spending your lunch break driving across the stateline into Georgia to procure cheap gasoline and abundant Chick-Fil-A, be sure to observe the proper distance from the vehicle in front of you (as certain female drivers may freak out at 55mph and slam their brakes upon initial sighting of a parked police car and while your prodigious driving skills and keen reflexes will prevail sans wreckage, said police person may decide it is in the best interest of the community to pull YOU over and cite you for following too closely.) Enjoy your $150 Chick-Fil-A lunch.
Write with thrift. Write thriftily.
Do something stupid and ill-advised, so long as it isn’t illegal, cost-prohibitive, mean-spirited, or above a 7 on the potential serious bodily harm scale.
Buy a big, fuzzy rug for your living room… one that conjures up tactile sensation memories when you walk across it in your bare feet. Make sure it matches at least one piece of furniture you own.
Fall in love. Very quickly.
Be glad you live in a city that is such a beautiful group of letters… c-h-a-t-t-a-n-o-o-g-a. Embrace the fact that you are a complete typography nerd.
Fist fight someone.
Expensive jeans are the new khakis. Discuss. With… yourself. While shopping.
Even though you only know how to play on the black keys, always have a piano handy. (If you can find an attractive torch singer in a red dress to sing on top of the piano, knee-deep in paper orchids and plastic tiki lamps, all the better.)
Hustle people for cold, hard cash playing Foosball at the local skating rink.
Floss.
In order to emphasize your points when speaking, slam your fists down on the nearest piece of furniture. This may prove problematic if said furniture isn’t within striking distance, but imagine how much people will KNOW you’re serious when you lunge at the nearest coffeetable after uttering an emphatic statement.
Buy a ukelele. Play it in elevators. Watch women swoon. (It worked for Elvis.)
Attempt to listen to any of the following m-named artists without your head exploding from sheer joy: Edgar Meyer, Brad Mehldau, Miles Davis, Meshuggah, Mike Marshall, Monte Mongomery, Muse, Mute Math, The Meters, or Off The Wall/Thriller-era Michael Jackson. Be ok with headless happiness.
Nickname your mustache “The Gay Blade.”
Be caller #9. At least once.
Stop oversleeping. (Semi-related sidenote: buy iron pills and vitamin C.)
Look in to the necessary special tools, potent ingredients, magical gurus, etc. needed to concoct your own custom flavors of Pop-Tarts in the comfort of your apartment. Don’t be surprised if you mistakenly make a batch of Meth instead.
Four bowls of Frosted Mini-Wheats for dinner is roughly the equivalent of a box of Super Colon Blow. Apologize to your co-workers.
Be coy. (Take classes if necessary.)
$6.47 white slip-on deck shoes from Wal-Mart are fun for short-term usage. Long-term wear somewhat resembles repeated blows to the heel with a sledgehammer. Your gamble.
Be original. Instead of getting an abscess under a tooth, get an abyss under a tooth. Then you’d have a civilian diving team searching for a lost nuclear submarine and facing danger while encountering an alien aquatic species… under your tooth. And while that might be crowded, no matter how abyss-y the abyss proved to be, adding an underwater Ed Harris into the mix makes it quite the dental party.
Whip up your own Polaroid film using common household chemicals. If this proves difficult to impossible, marry a rich woman who will support the pack-a-day habit you want to grow accustomed to.
10113 songs, 39.2 days, 56.17 GB is not nearly enough.
Start every phone conversation for the next two weeks with “what are you wearing?” Even tele-marketers. Actually, especially tele-marketers.
Buy a dune-buggy.
Build a medieval catapult. Always refer to it as a trebuchet, just to sound elitist.
Write a poem about making out. Title it “Better Than Cigarettes,” because honestly… you believe it.
Initiate hugs. (Semi-related sidenote: think about the fact that as your best friend Lee read this note, he immediately said “Ini-ti-ate a whole bag a Doritos” in his head.)
Record a German electronica album under the moniker The Handsomeness.
If you ever meet anyone involved in the internet spam industry, square up, wind up, and kick them repeatedly in the crotch until they spit blood and/or lunch out of their mouth. (If they happen to be a woman, scold them mildly.)
Buy mustache wax. Browse the leather chaps aisle, but don’t look too interested.
Three words: stairwell pole vaulting.
Hitchhike in the Midwest. (What the hell else are you going to do there?)
When life hands you lemons, add 2 parts Rum, 2 parts soda water, 1 part lime juice, lightly crushed mint, and a dab of sugar.
Take a poll of various Taco bell employees to find out if they too think it would be appropriate to refer to their workforce as “The Border Patrol.”
Should the opportunity ever arise, take Amanda Congdon out for drinks. She’s sure to be good, witty company.
Meet more people via the internet.
Get a utility belt. (A grappling hook is optional, though encouraged.)
When singin’ in the rain, do not sing in an upwards direction or you very well may be coughing in the rain and there is nothing magical/whimsical/romantical about coughing in the rain. Not even Gene Kelly could pull that off gracefully.
Thank God it’s Friday. No, seriously. THANK HIM.
Hurry up and learn to wait better.
Revel in anonymity. One day it may be gone.
Drink more water, fewer carbonated beverages, with friends, after quality toasts, on holidays, deep of love, yourself pretty, it in, to celebrate, often, still yet more water.
Set something on fire. Make sure that certain something is not attached to you. For example, do not burn your shirt, your leg, your beard, your grandmother, etc. Carry on. Flame on.
Have “people” so they can do things like call other people’s people. And bring you food.
Seriously, calm down. You’re far too excited right now.
Prove nothing to anyone. It takes up all your energy, you need your rest for what’s to come, and they won’t believe you anyway.
99.4% of men on Earth should not have long hair. Groom yourself accordingly.
Hide behind your camera/guitar/canvas/wit/charm.
Find out if there’s actually always room for Jell-O. Experiment on someone else (just in case Bill Cosby is a filthy liar.)
Give in to the realization that you will, henceforth, analyze every person on every flight you take for the rest of your life, wondering, if we crash and are stranded on a tropical island full of unexplained phenomenon, who would be the leader?
A watched IM buddy list never produces the one person you want to chat with at that given moment in time.
While operating a motor vehicle, don’t become so overwhelmed by a song that you close your eyes while singing it, no matter how funky/emotional/awesome/Prince-penned the aformentioned song may be.
Look into receiving some form of monetary compensation or literary praise from that whole Jericho shindig.
Play more air guitar.
Magically wake up three months ago. Scratch together some extra cash. Buy MySpace for $580,000,000.01, outbidding News Corp. by a whole shiny penny. Blow up MySpace. Return home to San Dimas in a phonebooth.
Learn to parallel park at full speed stuntman-style.
Try and think of any viable reasons to ever visit/re-visit the following states: Florida, Alabama, North Dakota, Kansas, and/or West Virginia. Fail miserably.
Build a zeppelin.
Worry whether your friends’ pets actually like you. Feel insecure when cats stare at you, as if they know your darkest secrets and if they only possessed the power of speech, would rat you out. Be thankful for the specific order of the animal kingdom. Mock them.
Videotape yourself eating cereal or watching TV or doing some other mundane task. Speed it up. Edit the footage with a soundtrack of mellow, slightly out-of-tune acoustic mood music and thoughtful, nonlinear narration. Poof. Instant filmmaker street cred.
Have a torrid love affair.
Do something, anything, brilliant today. If possible, destroy all evidence of it post-completion. Waste your talent.
Think fast.
Hunt down and kill a unicorn, just to prove to everyone that it’s not really a big deal. Make a taxidermist’s day/career.
Climb trees. Swing from vines. Wear more than a loin cloth.
Stop being bored, preferably permanently, though temporal relief would suffice.
Befriend a carny.
Give L.A. a second chance. Perhaps you were too hard on it the first time around. Get a better guide to the city this time. Run into a celebrity. Literally. Thump them in the nose. Run back to the South before you are sued.
Design rave fliers for non-existent parties. Post them up around town. See if social festivities spontaneously combust into existence.
Buy 14 perfectly fitting solid color t-shirts. Wear them, with no deviations to other clothing options, for the next few months. Enjoy not thinking about what you have to wear for awhile. Channel the energy you save into meeting new people or writing letters or becoming fabulously wealthy.
Clean out your inbox. Triple digits are BAD.
Memorize the recipe for an obnoxiously stellar Mojito. Slowly transition into mixing it blindfolded.
See a play. Even bad plays are more interesting than most of Blockbuster.
Let yourself go. Don’t even bother to use a toothpick to forcibly pry the black bean husks from your lunch burrito off your teeth. Slovenly is the new hotness.
Marry an artist. Stop. Rethink marrying an artist. Take into account potential drawbacks, latent competitive streaks, inevitable emotional upheavals, and general insecurities. Marry for money. Nobody cares about art anyway.
Write a book. Address the reader directly, almost to the point of annoyance. Shift tense, just to be trendy.
Find out if you can fit in a handbasket. If not, relax.
Almost no one in the art world knows what they’re talking about. We’re all faking it. Keep this in mind during conversations. Admit it openly. Watch people scurry for cover.
Avoid quicksand.
Avoid the terms “marinate,” “wallow,” and/or “human soup” while in a hot tub with friends.
Try being Canadian. See if it sticks, eh?
Begin wearing a HELLO MY NAME IS nametag in public. Everyday. Use your own name. Mostly. (Other names that may be acceptable include Kunta Kente, Love Doctor, Gene Kelly, and G-6 You Sank My Blankenship.)
Start a death metal band called Imperial Soup. Wear Druid costumes. Play one show. Break up in a fury of artistic differences with Dark Lord Gruelmonkey. Hit up the folk circuit with solo acoustic versions of Imperial Soup’s catalog. Keep the dream alive.
Drive a car with lit chandeliers on the hood a la Isaac Hayes in Escape From New York.
Meet Stefan Sagmeister. Buy him lunch. Hopefully learn enough over the course of eating to viably count as college credit. Make him say “wow… that’s a great idea” at least once.
Go home. Being a workaholic is way overrated.
Don’t stop ’til you get enough.
Begin referring to “SMS Messaging” as “S&M Messaging” in conversation. Stare at people incredulously if they have the nerve to correct you.
Wrestle a bear.
Re-read Ecclesiastes. Enjoy perspective wash over you.
Go to a lumberjack competition. Wear flannel. Be a poser.
Call a friend who works in a cubicle. Tell them to stand on their chair and cluck like a chicken. Don’t let them off the phone/hook until they do. Everybody wins.
Use Helvetica.
Research the potential of uncovering a fourth primary color. Coax it out of hiding. Befriend it. Then sell out to Pantone for a few mil and a semi-private jet.
At some point this week, eat a meal that tastes so good it makes you want to curse. Out-loud. Pay heftily for the privilege of doing so if necessary.
Craft an origami scale model of your apartment. Align all furniture to a grid system. Rearrange reality to match scale. Bask in the glow of perfection and control over environment. Order a pizza to celebrate.
Discover methods of making hyperlinks actually, physically hyper. Kill for the information if necessary.
Name each of your toes. Attempt to train them to stand at attention when called by name. Belittle the ones who can’t manage. By flipflop season you’ll realize that tough love was the way to go.
Two words - reverse mohawk.
Tell Seasonal Affective Disorder to STEP OFF.
Find the end of the internet. Move on with your life.
Start painting on blank skateboard decks instead of canvas. Hang them on gallery walls. Poof. Instant artistic street cred.
Crave In ‘N Out Burger. Live in the South, where you can’t do anything about it. Die inside, just a little.
Rob the jewelry store and tell ‘em make me a grill.
Regularly dispense movie quotes in a stately, un-ironic tone, as if they were actually wisdom dripping from your lips. Become who you were born to be. (See how easy it is?)
Wear more layers to the office. Don’t forget gloves. Make extra cash by leasing out the space above your desk to hang raw meat. Charge Rocky rent to train for his next sequel here in the frigid cold. Sleep in a Tauntaun to avoid certain death.
Track down famed relief pitcher Rollie Fingers. Ask him how he got to be so fly.
Move to New York City. Eventually.
Buy a ninja costume. Invent social occasions to wear it in public.
Taking cues from the stylish older black gentleman outside of Burger King, answer any passing small talk questions with the phrase “a’ight now.” Addendum: tag on “youngblood” to the end of “a’ight now” if the mood strikes.
Sketch everyday. Preferably strange and unusual characters.
Go to the Dollar Store on your lunch break. Buy something for everyone in the office. Absurdity and uselessness should be the keywords. Repeat them, out-loud if necessary, while shopping.
Talk to more kids. They are brilliant in their simplicity.
Procure blueprints for a time machine from the world wide web. Build the contraption in your spare time from spare/disgarded computer parts. Go to 1953. Ask the nice electrician wiring your apartment complex to put an outlet by the front door so you don’t run into things when you come home at night. Return to a well-lit 2006.
Wear less brown, Mr. Boring McEarthtoneseveryday.
Kiss a girl in the rain a la The Notebook. (Or, severely less notably, Spider-Man, only minus the whole upside-down thing and Kirsten Dunst.)
Make a yearly habit of firing a gun, if for no other reason than to remind yourself you’re not particulalry fond of them and they can be quite dangerous if you’re not aware of what to do. Ditto for going out on a blind date.
Learn to play every Nick Drake song.
Just quit it already.
Think about finishing your degree. This by no means a resolution to do so, simply a means of not forgetting that the possibility always exists.
Drive a more reliable vehicle by this time next year.
Listen to Barber’s Adagio (or another work of staggering genius and beauty) at least once a day.
Get more wisdom, so you can be a better lover of people by sharing it with them. Read more books; you’re feeling low on wisdom lately.
Don’t have a gut at your 10 year High School reunion. You have approximately 12-16 months. 1, 2, 3, go.
Find out how to be less emotionally detached. Turn said findings into action. Write a novel detailing your newfound emotionally-charged experiences. Become famous. Have difficulty coping with fame. Revert to emotional detachment to deal with the stress of celebrity.
Walk around downtown at night more often. Occasionally invite company.
Find your treasure, so you can also find your heart.
Knock on your downstairs neighbor’s door. Tell them you heard them blasting Lionel Richie the other night. Look at them sternly, as if in disapproval. Then smile wildly, give them the wink, double-wink, and/or double gun, and say “rock and roll… rock and roll” as you walk away pointing like a drunk frat boy.
Try tuna.
Stop pretending you don’t want to entertain all the thoughts you pretend you don’t have. Breathe deep. Feel free. Now, don’t misconstrue the doing away with of this facade as a license to entertain said thoughts. (And for goodness sakes, don’t act on them.)
Fix your headlight, you idiot. It’s been out since Thanksgiving.
Stop obssesively emptying the trash on your computer. Your fear of succumbing to your family’s pack-rat tendencies is getting a bit out of hand.
Make someone a mix CD. Mail it to them. They will love you for it (and hey, after all, doesn’t everybody just want to be loved?)
Make someone a mix CD. Mail it to them. They will love you for it (and hey, after all, doesn’t everybody just want to be loved?)
Start planning/saving for a your next vacation(s) right now. If you don’t, you will never make it to Boston/LA/SanFran/Etc. this year and you will wonder what in the hell happened to 2006.
Never buy 1-ply toilet paper. The price-savings to raw-ass ratio never works out in your favor.
Be less honest about your failures as a human. It tends to make people uncomfortable. Actually, scratch that… if they can’t deal with honesty, they need to be shaken up a bit. Be more honest about your failures as a human.
Take more photographs. You’ll thank you later.
Finish what you start. Nobody likes it when you leave things undone.
Forget about her. She’s almost certainly forgotten about you. (Probably.)
No matter what lies you tell yourself, you really will feel better if you just go ahead and get up in the morning instead of rolling back over.
Listen to more John Coltrane albums.
Call your mother. She worries. Don’t fault her for the worrying, it’s part of her DNA.
Stop seeking out affirmation. It’s killing your ability to make art that people will admire.
Give away clothes that make you feel fat. Life is too short to be held captive by ill-fitting threads.
Ask people more questions. Actually listen to their answers.
Go get a slight crush on a cute girl. It makes you smile for no apparent reason.