Oops, I Did It Again

Why do we keep making New Year's resolutions? Psychologists say it's about hope, a chance to wipe the slate clean, like pressing the reset button.

- RICARDO T. PAMINTUAN

New Year's resolutions are like that treadmill in your den: full of potential but destined to collect dust by February and turn into a towel and garment rack by March.

I've seen it all - from the evolution of tech and the mutation of teens into slaves to tech to the perpetuation of political clans in power and the growing admiration for the bizarre (think Dr. Pimple Popper or TikTok reels showing feet) - but I find the whole tradition of making resolutions both charmingly naive and hilariously futile.

And yet, here I am, gearing up to make my own promises for 2025, knowing full well they might not survive the first month or even the Epiphany.

But before diving into my own ridiculous plans, let's take a step back. Where did this whole idea of New Year's resolutions come from in the first place? Why do we insist on making them, year after year, despite overwhelming evidence that most of us will fail?

Around 4,000 years ago, in the Mesopotamian city of Babylon (in modern-day Iraq), folks made promises to the gods to pay off debts and return borrowed items. I imagine there was at least one Amorite guy who forgot to return a goat and spent the year dodging divine judgment.

Julius Caesar raised the bar by dedicating January to Janus, the two-faced god of beginnings and transitions. Romans would reflect on past mistakes and vow to be better. Despite Caesar's inability to do his own reflecting and consequently to improve or take revenge on his enemies (Et tu, Brute?), it's nice to think that even back then, someone was swearing to cut back on wine and start running (probably fleeing from an angry senator).