New Year's Revolution

Ah, school. I have returned from my Winter Break with some rather unfortunate turkey weight, about a thousand new Facebook pictures of me dancing on a table at New Year’s, and, surprisingly, about fifty new pairs of socks.
Yes, I to use an entire suitcase to get them all here, but I have no one to blame but myself. Anyone feel a flashback coming on? Because I certainly do …
*Cue classic flashback music, preferably along the lines of The Twilight Zone theme song*
Ah, Christmas morning. Even without snow, there was definitely some magic in the air as my eleven year old sister ripped the covers off my bed, telling me that she would sit on my face if I did not wake up immediately. Christmas spirit really does wonders on children, doesn’t it?
Though it was still dark outside, as it often is at 6 A.M., our Christmas tree glowed over the array of red and green wrapping paper as my three siblings calmly decided who would open what first by playing the traditional game of rock paper scissors. My little sister won, probably because of her sneaky but brilliant use of real scissors.
After we cleaned up the blood and settled down, the wrapping paper started to fly, the stockings were emptied, and my sister’s violent tendencies finally came to a halt. It seemed that everyone got what they wanted: my dad was already trying out his new GPS system, my mom was putting on her new necklace, my brother was practically making out with his new Redskins sweatshirt while my other brother documented the romantic moment on his new camera, and my sister was admiring her new Hannah Montana merchandise.
I looked down and felt a surge of guilt. I was surrounded by an obscene amount of warm and, in some cases, glittery socks, but I didn’t get that spark of childish excitement I can normally depend on feeling Christmas morning. I sat for a while and thought about it. It wasn’t that I was being a brat – I love socks – especially ones that match my Vegas showgirl outfits! Of course I would wear them every day for the rest of my life, but the feeling of disappointment, I discovered, was not about what I got, but what I didn’t get. When my parents asked me what I wanted for Christmas, I brushed them off, saying that I didn’t care. I expected them to be able to read my mind.
But life isn’t like that. No one can possible know what you want unless you say it out loud, unless you live your life in the direction you want it to go. Be an example of what you want, who you want to be.
I kept this in mind throughout the rest of winter break and noticed people making similar mistakes: a friend making goo-goo eyes at her ex-boyfriend but never pulling him aside and flat out telling him that she wanted to get back together; another friend living miserably under the thumb of his parents never putting his foot down and telling them that he wants to work toward being a better family. Life isn’t about the socks we get for Christmas, it’s about writing the letter to Santa a month before Christmas and telling him that what you really want is a pony. Because even mythical holiday spirits won’t know what you want unless you vocalize it.
You can probably guess what my New Year’s Resolution is. Actually I have two: the first is to write, direct, and star in my own sock puppet musical. If I’m successful, this will probably be the last time you hear from me unless I send you a postcard from Hawaii where I will be frivolously spending all the trillions of dollars I make on Opening Night alone. But if I fail, at least my feet will stay warm.
My second and more challenging (yes, more challenging than a sock puppet musical) resolution is to stop holding back. From now on, I’m going to make sure I get what I want: like good grades and fancy ink pens and, most importantly, a pony.