December 31, 2025
There is a version of New Year’s Eve that pretends everything is tidy.
Clean slates. Fresh starts. Fireworks and champagne and declarations that sound great until about January 12.
And then there is the real version.
The one where the calendar flips but the world does not suddenly calm down. The inbox does not empty. The noise does not stop. The problems do not politely wait outside while you get your footing.
Most years, December 31 feels less like a celebration and more like sitting behind the wheel, engine idling, checking the mirrors, aware that something is coming fast from behind.
Which is why this Thought of the Day lands so hard right now.
Thought of the Day
“It’s 106 miles to Chicago, we got a full tank of gas, half a pack of cigarettes, it’s dark… and we’re wearing sunglasses.” Elwood Blues
This line only works because of what surrounds it.
The world around Jake and Elwood is pure chaos.
They are not cruising. They are being hunted. Cops at every level. Sirens stacking on top of sirens. Helicopters. Squads cars crashing into each other by the dozen. The Good Ole Boys are after them. Jake’s ex-fiancée is trying to kill him with military-grade persistence. The city itself feels like it is actively trying to stop them.
And none of that is theoretical.
They have a deadline. They have a mission(A Mission from God). They have to get the money to the county clerk or the orphanage is lost. Miss it by minutes and nothing else matters.
That is the pressure.
That is the chaos.
And inside the car, Elwood does not panic. He does not pep-talk. He does not pretend things are fine.
He calmly takes inventory.
Distance. Fuel. Conditions. Readiness.
That’s it.
The line is funny, sure. Absurd, even. Sunglasses at night is a ridiculous detail. But that detail matters. It tells you something about how he is operating. He is not trying to make the situation reasonable. He is deciding to move through it anyway.
This is not optimism. It is clarity.
Elwood is not saying, “Everything will work out.”
He is saying, “This is what we have. This is what remains. This is enough to start.”
That distinction matters.
Because most of us enter a new year waiting for conditions to improve before we commit to movement. We wait for clarity. We wait for calm. We wait for permission. We wait for the noise to die down.
But the noise does not die down.
The sirens keep coming. Someone is always chasing you. Deadlines do not care about your emotional readiness. The world does not pause while you get organized.
The people who make it to Chicago are not the ones with the quietest road. They are the ones who stop arguing with the fact that the road is loud.
Earlier this year, I wrote about how often the most meaningful shifts come from small moments in What little thing changed your life this year?. That idea fits here too. Big endings are rarely the result of dramatic clarity. They are the result of someone deciding, quietly, that what they have is enough to keep going.
And sometimes, what you have is not pretty. Sometimes it is half a pack of cigarettes, bad lighting, and questionable judgment. Sometimes it is exhaustion and stubbornness and a sense that stopping would be worse than continuing.
That still counts.
I called my year “Relentless” back when I wrote My Word of the Year: Relentless. Not because I felt powerful, but because I knew quitting quietly would be the real danger. That word still fits. Not as a victory lap. As a survival strategy.
The end of the year does not require a manifesto. It requires a decision.
Check what you have.
Acknowledge the chaos.
Stop waiting for perfect conditions.
Then say the only line that matters next.
Hit it.
Question of the Day
We have the keys to the car, and it’s got a full tank… where are we going to go?
That question is heavier than it looks.
Because it assumes movement.
It assumes you are not sitting this one out. It assumes you are not handing the wheel to someone else. It assumes you are willing to choose a direction even if the map is incomplete.
Not a fantasy destination. Not a version of your life that requires you to become a different person overnight.
Your real life. Your real limits. Your real obligations.
Where does that version of you want to aim next?
Maybe the answer is not a place. Maybe it is a posture. Steadier. Less reactive. More honest.
Maybe it is not about speed at all. Maybe it is about refusing to stay parked out of fear.
Jake and Elwood are not heroic because they are fearless. They are heroic because they move with purpose while everything else spins.
That is a good way to enter a new year.
If you want to keep these daily moments of pause and motion as we head into what comes next, you can join the Low Two Pair daily email. One Thought of the Day. One Question of the Day. No fireworks. Just a steady reminder to keep driving, even when the road is loud.
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