‘I DON’T believe in New Year’s resolutions. You should work on yourself all year round, not once a year.” This has been my boyfriend’s stock reply for the past five years when I ask him about his New Year’s plans. I hope he’ll have a change of heart and jump on the resolution bandwagon with me, but alas, he never does.

Which is a shame, because resolutions are the best parts of the new year.

New Year’s Eve I could take or leave. The past three of them I’ve spent in my tiny flat in Camden playing boardgames and drinking cava with a small group of friends. I don’t like going out on New Year’s Eve because it’s for amateurs. It’s a festive night out for the couple who got a babysitter for the whole night – for the person who works a steady day job with a long commute, thus being responsible on the weekdays is a must. It’s for people “who don’t really drink”. The responsible sometimes-drinker who plans a night out by preparing themselves with Alka-Seltzer and water ready and waiting for them upon their inebriated return home.

I’m a stand-up comic, with no children, and who picks their own work hours. Hours that leave me out late most nights. I don’t need an excuse like New Year’s to go out and get pissed. I have Tuesday. Every Tuesday of the year I can get as drunk as I want and no one tries to throw ugly numeral glasses on my face while I do it. Let the novices have New Year’s Eve. I’m here for New Year’s Day.

I need resolutions. I like them. In a time of the year where it’s the darkest and coldest it can be in the UK, we have New Year’s Day. A day of hope. January 1 is the day I think: “I’m not just going to be a better me. I’m going to be the me I fantasise about. I’m going to stop drinking, eat less meat, read more, learn a foreign language, exercise first thing in the morning, and drink more water.”

I made these resolutions this year. I made them last year. Already as I write this it’s 11:30am and I’m in my dressing gown having not worked out and my stomach is acidic because all I’ve had to drink is black coffee. So I’ve already started to fail. But I’m failing greatly!

I need resolutions because I love goals. And there’s something very comforting about knowing that you’re in it to win it with millions of strangers across the globe. Even if it all falls apart in February we fall apart together.

I drink coffee from the same cheesy mug every morning – it has a unicorn on the handle and across it says “Never Stop Dreaming”, and I’ve never stopped. As a child and now I have been a day dreamer.

Imagining myself in great heights of fame, or running a marathon in under four hours, speaking German fluently, doing loads of volunteer work; in my fantasies I’m an active participant of society. In my head I can do all of these things. And that’s what resolutions are, a dream to be a better person in the world.

That’s also why I don’t understand people who don’t do resolutions. Who wakes up and looks in the mirror and thinks, “Yep, this is fine”? I’m not saying that self-love and acceptance isn’t a good thing. It is! In fact, to be kinder to myself is on my ever-growing list of resolutions. But really, nothing? Not even one thing? Even if it’s silly. For instance, despite the fact my bedtime waffles between 1-4am, I still think I, too, could be a morning person.

Maybe by the time you read this your sober, Veganuary has been thwarted by one Sunday roast at your mum’s. But hey, at least we’re trying.

And isn’t that enough sometimes? Australia is burning, Trump has caused international unrest amidst his own impeachment, and there is a rise a fascism in the UK. But I’ve gone to Zumba. It feels like the only thing one can do in what seem like internationally perilous times. We can all try to be a little better in our everyday lives and if we’re a bit better in a small way, maybe that goodness will creep up the ladder and it could become global. I realise some people might scoff at this sunny disposition in the view of inevitable February failure. But what can I say, I’m a dreamer. And the one resolution I’ve always kept is that I’ve always kept trying.

Abigoliah Schamaun is an American-born stand-up comedian and writer living in London. Find out about her shows at www.abigoliah.com or on Twitter/Instagram: @abigoliah

She is performing at The Stand Comedy Club this week. For more info, see https://www.thestand.co.uk/glasgow/whats-on​