The thing I like most about the Olympics—like with most things in life—relates to me. I like that the Olympics happens every fourth winter, because like New Years Eve it provides a nice, even beat for taking snapshots of your life. As I sat on the couch last week and watched Usain Bolt win gold in the Men’s 100 Metres instead of reflecting on the pinnacle of human athleticism I’d just observed I instead dwelled on what had happened to me since the moment in 2008 when I was sitting on the couch watching Usain Bolt win gold in the Men’s 100 Metres.
A lot has transpired in the past one Olympic, it’s been one of my busiest Olympics of my life. I moved out, moved in, moved states, moved jobs and moved very little. I fell in love, got engaged, got married, got read. I was operated on three times. I took about 10,000 photos, wrote about 100 reviews for Rip it Up and wrote several terrible short stories. I doubled my income and halved my muscle mass.
It’s hard not to be prolific between Olympics, though. Two Olympics ago I was a Nightfill and Internet superstar, driving a VK commodore and I hadn’t even traded for a Credit Card yet. The events of the Olympic before that are even more life changing and long ago.
Most people think it’s silly to come up with New Olympic Resolutions, but I’m going to oblige. By this time next Olympic I want to have my name on some real estate, publish something in somewhere, walk my dog, visit Europe, be less self-obsessed and climb Mount Kosciuszko.
Happy Opening Ceremony!