Â鶹ÊÓƵ

I’m going to dance like there’s nobody watch and sing like there’s nobody to tell me I’m out of tune.

I’m going to belch loudly like there’s no one to apologize to, and post crazy conspiracy theories online like there are no repercussions emotionally or legally to the words coming out of my phone.

I’m going to cook like there’s no one else in my building who doesn’t absolutely adore Hamburger Helper three days a week and play karaoke in my place at all hours of the evening during the summer.

I’m going to self-teach Shakespearean stage diction, memorize various soliloquies, and stand up in the middle of city council meetings and blurt them out in the middle of budget debates.  

Speaking of the summer, I’m going to turn the heat on at my place to 35 degrees Celsius and have the air conditioning going all the time.

I’m going to look at my full suitcase the next time I’m at a hotel, look at it seriously and say ‘Well, there’s an awful lot to unpack here’ like it’s not been said a hundred times already.

I’m going to look through my family tree and research it till it turns up someone interesting like Joan of Arc or Genghis Khan or both. Then, I’m never going to let anyone forget that.

I’m going to give an animal an over-the-top regal, Game of Thrones-style name, write a brief, fictional backstory on its collar and then try to teach it to speak English so it looks like one of those cartoons about a royal animal who switches places with a house pet. That’s a movie right? It should be a movie.  

I’m going to write a movie about an animal with an over-the-top, regal, well, you get the idea.

I’m going to drink cola like there’s no permanent damage being done to my kidneys and sleep like getting five hours a night is normal and by no means something I should get checked out.

When it comes to medical help, I’m going to throw myself a birthday party and not invite anyone.

I’m going to play fetch with a dog for like 30 seconds and then run away and leave someone else to play with him, and the next elevator I see, I’ll press all the buttons so that anyone who wants to get out on any floor can feel the freedom to do so.

I’m going to eat vegetables like they’re some sort of rare thing that should be conserved in case the world ends, and pour potato chips down my gullet like I’m saving someone’s life if I do.

I’m going to take up sewing just so I can make a hairshirt out of someone else’s hair.

I’m going to learn Russian and mess with people’s minds by saying things like ‘this is for the motherland’ in Russian before going down the waterslide.

I’m going to ask an agronomist why farmers spend years doing crop rotation if they’re only going to get dizzy while doing so.

I’m going to watch biographies and suspenseful films like they’re the only genres of films ever made and I’m going to ignore anything filmed that has a character resembling a romantic interest.

I’m going to forget more about hockey than Vancouver Canucks head coach Travis Green will ever know. Wait, I’m going to check this off because I’ve actually already done this.

As for the rest of them, I don’t know that I actually plan on doing this because I’m selfish and set in my ways, or that I feel that by doing this I’m any closer to being happy but it feels like by doing this, I’ll be either setting the world alight or selling a thousand motivational posters. I’m cool with whatever.

But it all starts with the dancing and singing. I’ll get right on that as soon as I stop feeling self-cnscious about it.