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THE URBAN MAN FOR KCRW, JAN. 2, 2006

Not a Whole New You

By Marc Porter Zasada

Today is the day for New Year resolutions, and when you awoke this morning, I’m sure you rejoiced to find yourself still living in the city of second chances: The city of remakes and rewrites, third wives and serial bankruptcy, young religions and redemptive last scenes.

In short, the City of Angels.

You know that if you found yourself broke, disgraced, or merely forgotten in this town, you’d soon arrange a fresh start. You’d lease a Lexus. You’d get a booth at Nate and Al’s. You’d start making some calls. And pretty soon…it would be a whole new you.

But the Urban Man is sorry to report that even here in L.A., and despite the best booth and the most diligent cell phone use, despite plastic surgeons and makeover shows, actual change does sometimes prove difficult. The lawyers intervene. The rewrite leaves you out. Those extra pounds just won’t come off.

And yes, the pressure to constantly renew yourself can cause a lot of stress.

Fortunately, recent studies have determined that change itself is often…unnecessary. Sometimes all you need is a different spin on the life you already have. This year, maybe you don’t need New Year resolutions, maybe you just need a new context.

For example, at first glance, it may appear that you are living in a rickety second floor apartment in East Hollywood, spending your evenings alone with a cat named Mr. Snowflake. But viewed from a different angle, you can see that you haven’t hit a dead end, you’re just staying out of the rat race. You’re not lonely, you’re meditative. Maybe you’ve achieved Taoist detachment right here in the beating heart of America.

Or you, sir. Tomorrow, as you head north on the 101 at 5:15 p.m., and you come to a complete halt amidst a glittering sea of exhaust fumes, you should not see yourself as a slave of quiet desperation. Maybe you’re not actually trapped by the payments to those private schools, those orthodontists, and the boutique which supplies those ridiculous boots to your teenage daughters.

No, perhaps you are Ulysses, battling both traffic and despair to win your way home and protect your hearth from usurpers and private trainers. Perhaps you are worthy of Homeric song.

And you, ma’am. Sure you have a husband who stays up late listening to the Zeppelin concert tapes he pirated in the 70s. But don’t forget that graduate degree he completed in philosophy. Under those headphones, he’s actually working out the last chapter of a book on Schopenhauer.

Maybe you’re not overweight, maybe you’re the Angeleno who has finally established a new body paradigm.

Maybe you were not rejected by that lover, I’m sure you subconsciously chose to move on.

Maybe you haven’t really lost your dynamic clout in the board room, you’ve just become the steady hand.

And trust me, it would have been a mistake to take that job, buy that fixer-upper, or believe your friend Pete and invest in Japanese condos. I’m certain you made the right choice.

I’ll bet you’re not afraid, just prudent. Not immature, just trusting. Not aggressive, just bold. Not shy, just charmingly modest. Not irresponsible, just blessed with the ability to enjoy life. Not media-saturated, just tuned into the modern zeitgeist.

And who knows, maybe those $25 contributions to the Sierra Club really are saving old growth redwoods.

In fact, I’m guessing your life here in the metropolis is much better than it first appears. Maybe you really have buddied up to the angels. And hey, maybe you should pass by that shelf of self-help books, forego all January resolutions, and stay who you are a little longer.

Here in the city of second chances, there’s always…next year.