Why do we give such weight to New Year’s resolutions? I wrote an entire editor’s letter in SHARP’s winter issue dedicated to the question last year and got back some of the most visceral feedback I’d ever received. I was advocating for them, for the record – many agreed, most didn’t. And I get it. My fiancée and I returned to the conversation again last night, lying in bed talking about the coming year. She sits firmly in the “I don’t get it” camp.

“If someone wants to make a change, just make the change,” she said pointedly. “Why wait until January 1st? Why not just do it?” I think she thought that if she made her point quickly, she wouldn’t leave the door ajar for a patented long-winded David rebuttal. But after four years together, she should know I’ve never met a rhetorical question I wouldn’t try to answer.

I get what she means, and I’ve seen her stand by it relentlessly for as long as I’ve known her. If she wants to become a runner, she starts running the next day. If she wants to eat cleaner, she heads straight to the grocery store. In the first few months we knew each other, she told me she wanted to attend one of the best painting programs in the world. I watched her uproot her life, move to the states, and walk across the graduation stage at the Rhode Island School of Design two years later with her MFA in-hand. But the Sofias of the world are the exception, not the rule – and that was essentially my rebuttal (I’ve found a rebuttal wrapped in a compliment really helps drive the point home).

I agree that January 1st seems arbitrary (it is) but there’s something very human about relying on a countdown. Sure, sometimes the countdown is a lie (“I’ll stop smoking once I finish the pack,” or “One more Lindt chocolate and I’ll close the box,” or “This is the last time I take a human life, my thirst is finally quenched”) but sometimes people need the accountability of a date, a time, or a benchmark to light the fire.

I was always the kid who counted down to jump in the pool. The extra five seconds didn’t warm the water but, for whatever reason, it’s what I needed to get me off the dock. My point is, some people need a clear cut-off. Sometimes it’s a milestone birthday, other times it’s the anniversary of something significantly heartfelt or traumatic. But most often, it’s the start of the new year. Whatever gets you to the starting line.

Still, when I talk to friends about resolutions, the most daunting reality seems to be the list itself. As someone who’s (clearly) annoyingly passionate about the ritual, I like to think there’s an art to the New Year’s resolution. To start, most should be tangible (similar to having a hard start date, accountability is your best friend). Also, they should be challenging, not punishing; the whole point is to better your life. Lastly, be intentional. No one cares about the specifics of your rituals except you, really. If you fall short, that’s okay, life happens – just make sure there’s a larger purpose to the goal (failing to “Eat a salad once a week” or “Finally finish Friends” is lame – it’s a glorified wish list for life, for God’s sake. Dream bigger).

Anyways, my fiancée and I agreed to disagree. She’ll start her resolutions tomorrow. I’ll count down from five before diving in. But for those, like me, who prefer some sort of monumental runway, I’ve copied down a few of my favourite resolutions from the past few years. And a few still on the horizon.

1. Do one physical feat that truly challenges what you think you’re capable of. If you reach it, do another.

This is entirely relative to whatever seems just-nearly-but-not-quite-out-of-reach. Maybe it’s running your first 5k. Maybe it’s cracking 2:30:00 in the marathon (kudos to my friend Alex, who ran 2:25:34 at the California International Marathon last week, just under the end-of-year gun). Maybe it’s bowling a personal best or surviving a Pilates class. Your body is a miracle. Do it justice and remind it what it’s capable of.

2. Go to one new restaurant a month.

I have this discussion a lot with friends: we’re in the golden age of dining. Hosting has been refined to the nth degree, smaller cities are investing in diverse, cool restaurants, and there is no social capital more valuable than having a great answer to “Where did you go eat?” Whatever your budget is, there’s room for one good meal a month. While you’re at it, when in doubt, opt for the tasting menu (it’s going to be “around” the same as going à la carte and you’ll get the best culinary experience – chances are, they know how to curate their menu better than you do). And, if you’re in Toronto, I don’t care if you have to sell your white blood cells to do so but go to Linny’s. Trust me.

3. Find one book that completely changes your perspective.

We should all read more, really (I’m biased because reading pays my rent). But New Year’s resolutions are ripe for setting oneself up for failure in this regard. I have a friend who wasn’t much of a reader, so he set himself the goal of 52 books in a year (he did it, which I was blown away by, but he’s also an elite distance runner, so he’s used to plodding along in misery for hours on end – otherwise, I don’t recommend). For most, I say that each year should be comprised of one book that completely shifts the way you see the world. It gives you a quest, of sorts, and also a reasonable way to fall in love with reading later in life. It can be 100 pages or 2,000 pages. It might take 10 books to find the one that really hits you in the chest, or it might be the first you pluck off a shelf. This year, I was lucky enough to find two, if you’re looking for tips: Siddartha by Hermann Hesse and When You Are Engulfed in Flames by David Sedaris.

4. Get dressed up to go outside.

The pandemic fucked a lot of things up, not least of which was our willingness to put any semblance of effort into how we dress. I’m over-generalizing, of course. I work in an office where basically everyone puts in a distinct effort to look not only presentable, but distinctly stylish. Generally, though, there’s a virus of “athleisure” (known in medical fields as “Lululemonitus”) seeping into people’s dating lives, professional lives, even casual neighbourhood walks. People! Please! Getting dressed is how we choose to present ourselves to the world. If I may evoke Gossip Girl’s resident philosopher, Blair Waldorf: “Fashion is the most powerful art there is. […] It shows the world who we are and who we’d like to be.” Mic drop.

5. Buy small gifts for loved ones, for no reason at all.

One of my best friends, Sheldon, has a habit of giving me a small used book every time I see him. “I read this and thought you’d get a lot out of it” is, without a doubt, one of the most touching sentiments to hear from an old friend. I met up with another friend, Austin, in New York to run a half-marathon this spring. He flew in from London, England, and brought a running singlet from a local club as a memento of his new life across the pond (I wear it all the time). I’m a big advocate of FWC (flowers without cause) for my fiancée but when it comes to friends like Sheldon and Austin, my 2026 resolution is to be intentional about reciprocating those small, thoughtful, tangible acts. A nice bottle of olive oil for your friends that love to cook, a thrifted graphic tee from someone’s favourite band, a hand-made card congratulating the smaller victories in life – it doesn’t break the bank, it doesn’t take much time, but damn it if it doesn’t mean the world to receive.

6. Find three core staple items for your wardrobe.

This is, obviously, closely tied to “Get dressed to go outside.” But part of enjoying the act of getting dressed is owning clothes that feel like “you.” Thankfully, it’s easier than ever to buy second-hand or find accessible deals on clothes that will last a lifetime. In that vein, if you’re in your late 20s and 30s, start buying pieces that can grow with you, that you can mix and match with an array of other items in your wardrobe, that are actually constructed to last, etc. For men, a good sports jacket is a must (I recommend a wool-blend or herringbone blazer). So are a pair of Levis 501s or 511s, tailored to fit exactly how you want them to. A white Oxford shirt is super versatile. Have fun with it – just put in the effort and allow your wardrobe to shape itself around them over time. Your future self will thank you.

7. Go to the movies alone.

If I were to put an objective number on this, I’d say once a month. At least, that’s my protocol. But I don’t want to overbook your calendar, so I’ll leave this open-ended. Even so, the two major takeaways here are: 1) go to the theatre and 2) try going alone. Not always. Of course, I love going with my fiancée or close friends. But there’s something distinctly different about taking in a great movie while not worrying if the person beside you is enjoying it just as much. You’re immersed in a new world set before you and, by necessity, completely unplugged from any outside distractions. I saw One Battle After Another by myself (twice!), and both times were transcendent experiences. Plus, if your partner is anything like Sofia, previewing a film alone before going together allows you to warn them before anything too violent pops on screen (a textbook win-win situation and exactly how we consumed Sinners). In a more general sense, I think learning to enjoy your own company (actually spending time with yourself, not with your feed or your algorithm) is valuable. After all, it’s the person you have to be around the most – you might as well get to know them. If you’re able to work up to it, dinner alone at a restaurant with a good book (yes, you can be that asshole, who cares?) is time well spent.

8. RSVP “Yes”

Altogether, Sofia and I had five weddings to attend in 2025, and a sixth we couldn’t make (because it overlapped with wedding No. 3). Was it taxing? Holy shit, absolutely. Between rental cars out of the city, wedding gifts, and MC’ing duties, there were times when it felt like we were drowning in the matrimonial wave. And at 28 years old and at least three more on the horizon next year, I know we’re just getting started. But in retrospect, I wouldn’t trade those five weekends for the world. Same with the birthday events, the housewarming parties, and the new-job celebrations. Life moves fast and calmer, quieter weekends lie inevitably on the horizon. The chance to see old friends on the precipice of a new life chapter seems like an honour. If the price to pay is a Hallmark card, some cash, and a long drive home, that’s a pretty sweet deal. Plus, some of my favourite stories came out of those weddings (a few of which are bound to end up on this blog eventually).

9. Tend to your living space.

Truth be told, if you put Sofia or my former roommates on a lie detector, they’d probably say I’m a bit too far on this end of the spectrum. Like, way too far. Like, if Marie Kondo visited our apartment, she would probably try to slip an Xanax or two into my coffee. But I’m a firm believer that tending to your living space is an extension of tending to yourself. So, if you’re not quite as “particular” as me, these would be my benchmarks: bed sheets should be washed once a week, “soaking” a pot is an exercise that never needs to exceed a few hours, and clothes should be stored with love (not in a single pile on a desk chair – after all, you just got your Levis tailored!).

10. Ask more questions.

This is always an odd one for people to confront but, I want you to look back on the last few dinner parties, wedding tables, and bar trips you’ve been a part of. Were you asking more questions than you were answering? Were you listening when people spoke and based on their thoughts, delved deeper with interesting and relevant follow-up questions? Look, I’m not saying you have to probe everyone’s political ideologies or mend their family traumas during a pub night, but you should be able to leave with (at the very least) one interesting, entirely unique fact about everyone in attendance. Asking good, fun, thoughtful questions is an art. Getting better at doing so will make you the favourite of the party and, if you’re more reserved, keep you from the pressure of having to entertain. My general rules of thumb: ask more questions than you answer, don’t ever try to “top” a story, and look for the person no one has engaged yet (get them in the mix!). Everyone loves a conversational point guard. Pass the ball.

If I missed any requisite resolutions, tips, or opinions on the new year, please reach out! My list is perpetually in process.